Changing Constants
by Colin The Master of Whisperers
Summary: Upon his death, Albus Dumbledore learns something from a Higher Power about the man with the mutilated soul, Tom Riddle. This Higher Power gives Albus Dumbledore the chance to change the course of the world. Time Travel. AU from Ch. 35 of OotP onwards. ***This is a re-upload. I decided that I wanted all of my stories in one place.***
1. Prologue

_**Disclaimer:**_ _I make no claim to the rights of any characters that are owned by J.K. Rowling or Warner Bros., and make no money from this venture. This work is purely for entertainment purposes._

* * *

—PROLOGUE—

 _Albus_

Albus Dumbledore was struggling to stand on his own two feet despite the fact that he was leaning heavily on the stone wall. The potion that Voldemort had used to protect the Horcrux in the cave had weakened Albus' entire body to the point that he was on the verge of passing out at any moment. It was a wonder to him that he was even still remaining conscious.

Draco Malfoy, Albus knew, would not commit the murder tasked him. He had known that from the very beginning. Despite this, Albus kept the boy, and the Death Eaters that were in the Astronomy Tower with them, talking so as to give Severus more time. Severus needed to be there, and time was swiftly running out.

It was not meant to be that night.

Albus needed more time, yet he knew that he had none. Harry had nearly all of the information that he needed to carry out his task, and Severus would be able to covertly provide him with the rest, even if he didn't know that he was doing so. If Harry had any other problems in his task, Albus felt certain that Hermione Granger would be able to work most other things out.

He had wanted to destroy the Horcrux with Harry when they got back to Hogwarts. He wanted Harry to know how to destroy them. That was what was to come next, but Draco and his surprisingly brilliant plan put an end to that. Albus knew that he and Harry would have no more time together, and that was almost as painful as the potion flowing through his veins.

Regardless of the issues that arose from Draco's plan, the only regret that Albus had in that very moment was that one of his "people", as Draco had so eloquently put it, was dead. Albus could not stop himself from wondering who it was. He felt reassured that, in life, he would never know. He was sure that it would cause him a lot of grief, as every death had before it.

"Draco, do it, or stand aside so one of us –" Alecto Carrow screeched, causing Albus's throbbing head even more pain, though he betrayed nothing. Cutting Alecto off, the door to the ramparts burst open. Greyback, the Carrow siblings and Yaxley all looked to the door in alarm. To their relief, it was none other than Severus Snape. Where the Death Eaters had outwardly shown it, Albus let out an imperceptible sigh of relief.

"We've got a problem, Snape," Amycus Carrow said quickly as his eyes swivelled around and he continued to train his wand on Albus, "the boy doesn't seem able –"

Albus knew that Severus would need encouragement. A sign that this was the time. And Albus could see no other way.

"Severus," he said softly, partially due to the potion and partially because he wanted to make it sound as though he was pleading. Severus said nothing, though Albus could see something flicker in the other man's dark eyes as he pushed Draco aside. The other Death Eaters lowered their wands slightly and even Greyback looked somewhat tame.

Severus gazed for a moment at Albus, revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face. Albus could hardly blame him.

"Severus ... please ..."

Severus raised his wand.

Albus had always wondered what it would be like when he died. In his youth, and even in recent years, he had believed that his death would be for some great cause or other. With what he had faced in his life, he had never doubted for a minute that this was his fate and he accepted it openly. What he had thought most about over the years, however, was what would happen to him after death, for even he had no firm idea of what happens then.

He was reasonably sure that there was some form of afterlife. Ghosts proved that somewhat. As did, slightly disturbingly, Voldemort's Horcruxes. However, it was the Resurrection Stone that proved it for him. He had never once used it, but he knew almost instinctively that it would do what legend said. He had been on the verge of using it several times since he had first held it in his hands, but he could never bring himself to do so. He was afraid of what his family would say.

" _Avada Kedavra_!"

As the jet of green light sped towards him, Albus' mind seemedcleared of all things except for one face. One face that had haunted him for most of his life. The young, blonde, merry-faced teenager that he had once loved. It felt as if, for one last time, he was looking into the sparkling blue eyes that he had once secretly adored.

The Unforgivable Curse hit him. It was not painful. His soul seemed to simply lift out of his body. For a few moments, Albus was still standing where his body had been. He was not visible to those on the Tower, but he was there. And he was more at peace than he had ever felt in life.

"Out of here, quickly," he heard Severus say as he watched the man grab Draco by the scruff of his neck.

The world around him seemed to brighten quickly and Albus took one quick look at where he knew Harry was standing. Even though he knew that the boy that he considered a grandson had just lost a large piece of his innocence, Albus still felt at peace. Harry had not moved and Severus was out of sight.

The light became blinding.

It felt like both an eternity and a second as the light stayed, betraying nothing through the light. It did not hurt. In fact, it was rather pleasant.

Then, all around him, Albus saw objects rise up out of nothingness. They remained white, but the figures were discernible and Albus knew exactly where he was.

"The Astronomy Tower," Albus breathed, amazed at what was happening.

"Yes," said a soft, almost musical female voice from behind him. Albus whipped around feeling no fear, just alarm. She stood looking out over the grounds of the great school. "Hogwarts is so hauntingly beautiful. I only wish I could have experienced it."

The woman turned around. She seemed only slightly shorter than Albus, but her presence was one that he felt nearly overwhelming.

She was wondrous to behold. Everything about her was perfect. Her green eyes, standing out on her almost shining, white face. Her blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. The few black strands in the front of her hair that only went down her right side. The dazzling blue dress. Albus had never seen any being as perfect as her.

"I think," she said, her red lips lifting slightly, "I will stop your first question. I cannot tell you who I am. Or more to the point, who I was. It would not be advisable for me to answer or, in fact, for you to ask."

"Well then," Albus said calmly. "In that case I shall ask my second question. Where am I?"

"I assume you mean other than this wonderful Astronomy Tower," the woman replied with a small laugh in her melodious voice. "As I am sure you know, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, you are dead. This is the afterlife, though not as you might expect."

"How do you mean?" Albus asked, his eyebrows raising. For the first time he realised that he felt no effects of the potion he had drank an eternity ago, dead bodies surrounding him.

"Most people are not stopped here," the woman replied. "Most move completely on. Some, however, do not."

"Forgive me, for I do not know the customs," Albus said slowly, "but may I ask why _I_ was stopped here if most people go on?" For the first time since the Killing Curse hit him, he felt something other than simple peace and serenity. He felt concerned that some aspects of his life may prevent him from moving on. He thought of Ariana and Gellert.

"You …" the woman paused, whether for effect or if she needed to make sure her phrasing was correct, Albus did not, and could not, know. "Are a unique case. I will explain further.

"This … let's call it an 'area' for the sake of this discussion, is generally here for two reasons. The first is for people who have not truly died, and yet have moved on. Sirius Black, for example." Albus' eyes evidently widened.

"Sirius?" he asked, thinking of the Veil in the Department of Mysteries. "So the Veil that Sirius fell through is a gateway to this area?"

"Precisely," the woman replied quickly and rather pointedly. "It is one of two such Veils on the Earth. The other is in Egypt, deep in one of the pyramids. Both lead to this area, which is an exact replica of the world that you just left, except with less beings inhabiting it."

"And where is Sirius?" Albus asked, hoping that she would provide Sirius as proof. "He was not hit with the Killing Curse, yet he fell through the Veil. If what you say is true, he should be in this area. I wish to speak with him."

"Oh, no," she said lightly and with a small smile. "People that go through any of the two Veils are not here for very long. I am not the only person in charge, and each time someone goes through either of the Veils, we talk to them before sending them on."

"Then why have this area at all?" Albus asked, for the first time in many years feeling like the less intelligent person in a conversation. "Surely it would be more efficient to have the Veils as a pathway to the proper afterlife."

"You would think so," the woman replied in a tone that, for some reason, caused Albus to become slightly annoyed. It had been a long time since he had been spoken to in a tone such as the one that this woman used. He was used to being the Headmaster, not the student. "However, there was a time that those Veils, particularly the one in Egypt, were used as devices for sentencing among magical communities. We could not have so many people show up without prior warning. This world exists as a way to keep things orderly.

"As I was saying, that is just one of the two reasons we have this area," she continued and Albus listened, extremely interested. "The second is that there are some people that are not entirely fit for the afterlife for various reasons. Quirinus Quirrell is a good example, using someone that you would know. I should say that the afterlife is split into two regions which some people view as 'heaven' and 'hell', although they are not exactly what those places are believed to be. We just separate the so-called 'bad' people from the so-called 'good' people.

"Quirinus Quirrell, had he not run into what remained of Tom Riddle, would have moved on to the afterlife with no problem whatsoever. He was slightly too interested in the Dark Arts, but every great wizard has been," she bowed to Albus whose face remained unchanged. "It was Tom Riddle using Quirinus as a host for his soul that kept Quirinus here. In attaching himself to Quirinus, Riddle defiled the man's soul which, in turn, kept him in this area."

"So that is what keeps people in this area?" Albus asked inquisitively. "A defiled soul?"

"In a way," she replied. "I know your thoughts, Albus. And, no, we do not keep people here merely for killing. While killing does do harm to the soul, it is not irreparable. There are some acts that cause the soul so much harm that it can never be repaired. Fenrir Greyback, for example, will never leave this area. Not because of his being a werewolf, but because his soul has become so damaged from killing and infecting children."

"I believe I understand," Albus replied. "But, unless I am dreadfully incorrect, I have done neither of these things." The woman sighed, though it was not sad or exasperated. It was a sigh of relief, almost.

"You have not," she agreed. "You are, as I mentioned, a unique case. We deemed it necessary to stop you here."

"Who is 'we'?" Albus interjected before she could continue.

"'We' are a group of beings from the afterlife who are tasked with ensuring that this area is well-maintained," she replied. "You see, once in the afterlife, people can visit this area, however most choose not to. As we can do that, there are people needed to ensure that those that get stuck here are properly looked over, especially those unfortunate souls that go through one of the Veils.

"But we are not only in charge of this area," she continued. "We are in charge of all new arrivals. We know when people will come."

"If you would," Albus said quickly, "could you explain that to me? How can you know that people will come when they do? Are our lives truly governed by a higher power?"

"To a degree," the woman replied quickly, without missing a beat. "We cannot choose every aspect of every person's life. That would be a monumental undertaking that even we could not hope to do. No, what we do is provide constants in peoples' lives."

"Constants?" Albus asked.

"Moments that, under most normal circumstances, will always come true. Like," she thought for a moment, "a man winning the lottery. Or a woman getting married. But these constants are not always different for everyone. Your sister's tragic death," Albus felt a sudden pang of guilt, "for example, is a constant, not only for you, but for your brother and Gellert Grindelwald as well. You meeting Gellert and becoming best friends with him was the doing of you and Gellert alone, but no matter what happened, Gellert would always have been there when Ariana died. He could have been an enemy of yours. Or Aberforths. Or perhaps just visiting that day. The possibilities are not quite endless, but I'm sure you understand."

"Yes, I believe I do," Albus replied. "However, I admit I do not understand what this has to do with me. If my death was a constant –" He was cut off.

"A person's death, while a constant for those who witness it, is not a constant for the person who dies," she said urgently. "It cannot be so as the person who dies does not truly experience their death, only what causes it."

"In that case," Albus said, feeling slightly irritated at the woman, but did not express it, "I fail to see at all where I come into this."

"We can control the constants because we have somewhat limited control over the souls of human beings," she said melodiously, the urgency gone from her voice. "However, we have had an issue for quite some time involving one particular soul." Albus knew immediately who she was talking about.

"Tom Riddle," he said simply. She smiled.

"Indeed," she replied. "Tom Riddle has mangled his soul. He has mangled it to the point where we no longer have control over it. We believe that it was his sixth Horcrux that made his soul so utterly destroyed that we could no longer keep control. I'm sure you know which Horcrux that is, Albus."

"Harry," Albus breathed. "But what does this all mean? What does it mean that you no longer control him?"

"It means that he no longer has any constants," she replied solemnly. "His future is free and unencumbered. And, as a result, he can change other peoples' constants.

"Luckily for us, however, our constants that we have set for all people involved still happened. You see, we base the constants both on what we think should happen and what we believe _would_ happen. We have been lucky that Riddle had not changed any, as that changes a lot down the path. Imagine if he had not killed Amelia Bones," she said. Albus thought.

"Any number of things could have happened," Albus replied, with a tone of understanding.

"Exactly. If he had spared Amelia Bones, she could have gone on to be a more major player and, through a ripple effect, change a great many more constants," her voice was almost flat as she spoke. "It is, therefore, our constants that keep the world running as smoothly as it does. We are able to see the constants after someone has altered them, but that is no help as we cannot change the constants of any person who is actually living, or else we would change it all back. We can only add constants to new people as they pop up and hope that things go back to being smooth.

"The problem with this, however," she stressed and Albus became even more alert than before, "is that Tom Riddle has essentially made himself invincible, at least while his Horcruxes are still intact. If he never dies, he will continue to alter peoples' constants and we will inevitably lose control over every being. Everything will come crashing down around us."

"The Prophecy –" Albus began before being cut off.

"Is the only thing that Riddle cannot alter," the beautiful woman replied in an even more flat voice. "Prophecies are not constants. They are more like … forks in the road. Some of them are at least. And the Prophecy you speak of is one of these. Either Harry Potter or Tom Riddle dies. The result of the Prophecy, however, can be determined by our constants, another reason why they are immeasurably important."

"But you said that Tom Riddle has not changed anything yet," Albus pointed out.

"Actually, you'll find that I said that he _had_ not done anything," Albus' mind went over the conversation and found that she was right. He was very worried about the implications. "Everything that we predicted up until that point had come to fruition. Until the night of your death."

"What happened?" Albus asked worriedly. "I did not expect him to be at the school."

"He was not at the school," the woman said calmly, though she spoke with some anxiety. "He went against our predictions, however. He was left alone with only two of his close Death Eaters. Most of the others remained in prison or were at Hogwarts. The two that remained with him were Peter Pettigrew and Bellatrix Lestrange. He had planned an attack that he, Pettigrew and Lestrange would undertake while the others were at Hogwarts."

"What attack?" Albus asked sharply. Severus had mentioned no such thing.

"Severus was never told," she replied, almost as if she had read his mind. "The only ones that knew were Lestrange and Pettigrew. His plan was to attack the Muggle Government. Lestrange was there to cause chaos and Pettigrew to scout ahead. He wanted the Muggle Government thrown into chaos as he felt that it would be easier to later capture and also rule. Our prediction was that he would not follow through with this plan. But he did."

Albus inhaled deeply.

"When all the other Death Eaters left for Hogwarts, he, Bellatrix and Pettigrew left to the Ministry of Magic, where they forced Scrimgeour, under the Imperius Curse of course, to get an audience with the Muggle Prime Minister. Once they got that, they murdered both Scrimgeour and the Prime Minister. Not to mention half of the Muggle Government."

Albus' mind was racing, though his heart remained curiously slow. If this had happened, then Voldemort would have the Ministry earlier than he had expected and Harry, Hermione and Ronald would never receive the bequests that he left to them as guides. If they did not have those bequests, they would never learn of the Hallows. And Ronald would not be able to get back when he inevitably left them. The consequences were immense.

"I see you understand the enormity of the situation," she said with a smile that did not seem even the least bit forced. "Our predictions and constants led to the highly probable outcome that Harry Potter would survive the Prophecy after coming to this area with his Horcrux removed. It meant that we would have no further trouble with the man styling himself as Lord Voldemort. But now … well, let's just say that the predictions and constants aren't nearly as positive."

"This is all well and good," Albus said in a slightly strained voice. "But I still fail to see why you have stopped me here. What is your purpose?"

"Immediately following Riddle's murder of both Ministers, _We_ convened and came to a decision," she said, back to her melodic tones once more. "Half of us believed that there was something that we could do, I was in that particular camp, while the other half believed that We had no choice but to let it run its course and suffer the consequences.

"We knew that we could not interfere ourselves. Not in the affairs of those whose constants have already been chosen and have, now, been changed. But I thought of something," she said, looking rather haughty and proud all of a sudden. Even that looked good on her. "So I told the others my theory. Some disagreed with me. Since We could come to no good consensus We took it to a higher power than ourselves. And this higher power agreed with my idea." There was a pause.

"And what is this idea?" Albus asked impatiently.

" _We_ cannot do anything," she said, now with a broad smile. "But you can."

"I'm dead," Albus pointed out. "I can do nothing from beyond the grave."

"No, not from beyond the grave," she agreed.

"How then?" Albus asked, his curiosity getting the better of his exasperation.

"Because I have stopped you in this area," the woman gestured around to the Astronomy Tower, "you are not truly in the afterlife. If you were, my plan would be completely impossible. You see, We can do one other thing. We just never do it because there has never been a need for it in the past as everything was going as it was supposed to. We can send you back in time." Albus' eyes widened.

"Back in time?" he asked, thinking immediately of Ariana. "You can send me back in time?"

"To a point, yes," the woman said, her tone showing that she knew where Albus' thoughts were. "To the last constant in your life."

"When was this constant? When the ring cursed my hand?" he held up his hand and suddenly noticed that it was not burned any more.

"No, that was not actually a constant," the woman replied. "Your retrieval of the Horcruxes did not need to occur. It is slightly further back than that."

"My duel with Voldemort?" Albus asked. She shook her head. "Sirius Black's death?"

"Close enough," she said and Albus felt slightly humiliated at her use of that phrase. "Actually, the constant was the moment that he was hit with Bellatrix Lestrange's curse." Albus had a sudden thought.

"What good is to happen if I go back in time?" he asked. "If there are constants everywhere, doesn't that mean that they still apply? You said earlier that my death was not a constant for me, but it was for everyone else. Does that not mean that my death will still occur at the hands of Severus Snape? And Sirius' death remains a constant. Something that is supposed to happen. What good does going back do?"

"There is one last thing that this will do for you, Albus," the woman said kindly, her smile getting larger and her teeth gleaming almost as white as her face. "It will give you the same constant-altering powers as Tom Riddle currently has." Albus was intrigued and terrified at the same time.

"Is it wise to give someone that kind of power?" he asked her, frowning slightly and his eyes wide. "Is it wise to give _me_ that power?"

"We know you, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," she said with a smaller smile than before, but it was somehow more comforting. "You are not a perfect man by any stretch of the imagination. You have plotted, been involved with the Dark Arts and plotted some more. But every questionable thing you did was with one thing in mind. The Greater Good. The proper Greater Good. You did it for a peaceful world. You are not only the perfect man for the job, but you are also the only one."

Albus remained silent, though he could not fault her logic. He had done questionable things, but he had also done them because he knew that, in the long run, they could lead to better things for the whole world, not just the magical world. He watched as she turned away from him and looked out to the whitened grounds of Hogwarts.

"There is a widely used phrase," she said quietly. "'The more things change, the more they stay the same'. This is not so in your case, Albus. If you change something, and we want you to, it will change a lot of things. If you save someone's life, it could lead to the death of someone else. But that," she turned back around with a sigh, "is a risk we have to take.

"You are a Master of Death, Albus Dumbledore," she said, and Albus was taken aback. "You accepted your death with no qualms and no regrets. We can rely on you to die when necessary. We cannot rely on Tom Riddle to die when we need him to. And if Tom Riddle does not die, we will no longer have control."

Albus considered things for a moment. He knew he had no choice. If what this woman was saying was true, and he felt compelled to believe her, Voldemort could never be destroyed and everything he had ever worked towards would be destroyed. Every person he ever knew would be killed. Everything he had ever seen would be changed forever.

"I consent," he finally said, causing the woman to beam once again. "How does this work?"

"You will go back to the very moment that Sirius was hit with Lestrange's spell," she replied happily. "You will remember everything up until your death as well as this conversation. I cannot tell you the things that you need to know and do not know, such as what the other Horcruxes are or where they are hidden.

"But I will say this," she said bleakly. "There is something to be said for letting some things happen as they did. For example, Harry retrieving the memory from Horace Slughorn. That was an integral part of Harry's life, though he does not know it. As such, I would advise you not to tell anyone of your 'ability'. It could cause an issue that you can't predict or control."

"I see," Albus pondered. "Do you have any other tips?"

"This isn't so much a tip as it is a plea." Albus' eyebrows rose. "We will not be able to do this again with anyone else. At least not at the moment. So you need to make sure that, whatever you do, Lord Voldemort dies. If he dies at the hand of Harry Potter, all will be well."

"Consider it done," Albus said, although he felt a strange weight that he had not felt since his death. A lot was riding on his success. She nodded her radiant head, the black part of her hair falling into her eyes.

"Thank you and good luck," she said melodiously, "Albus Dumbledore." She waved a hand in the air and she and the shapes disappeared. Dumbledore felt something materialise in his hands. His wand.

He saw Sirius falling towards the Veil in the middle of the room and reacted immediately. _Accio Sirius_ , he thought, not having to say it aloud. Centimetres away from the Veil, Sirius' body suddenly jerked and flew towards Albus who then used another spell to levitate Sirius behind him.

There was a blood-curdling scream that Albus knew could only have come from the lungs of Bellatrix Lestrange. He looked at her and she looked even more deranged than usual.

" _Avada Kedavra_!" she shrieked. Albus instinctively pulled a huge chunk of rubble in front of him. But from the soft thump in the suddenly silent room moments later he gathered that he was not the target of the curse.


	2. Harry I

_**Disclaimer:**_ _I make no claim to the rights of any characters that are owned by J.K. Rowling or Warner Bros., and make no money from this venture. This work is purely for entertainment purposes._

* * *

 **PART I**

 _ **Change Begets Change**_

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—CHAPTER ONE—

 _Harry_

Harry Potter watched in horror as the curse hit his godfather, the caster's hair seeming to blow slower through the air, a smile on her face. For a moment, Harry feared that Sirius was going to fall through the Veil. He had no idea what would happen if that actually occurred, but he could guess that it wasn't anything good.

Then, as suddenly as the curse hit him, Sirius lurched violently away from the Veil and hurtled towards Albus Dumbledore, who had not long entered the fight. Harry saw Dumbledore levitate his godfather so that Sirius landed behind the older man.

All of a sudden, the room was filled with a blood-curdling, ear-piercing scream as Bellatrix Lestrange realised that she had been denied a kill. Harry's eyes went straight to her, and what he saw was purely deranged. She looked far more dangerous in that moment than Harry had ever seen her, including the picture of her in Azkaban. She looked almost as if she were howling to a non-existent moon before she lowered her head, but not her wand.

" _Avada Kedavra_!" the crazy woman shrieked. Her wand had moved so quickly that Harry did not see where the spell had been cast towards. Before he could move, he felt a body crash into him and together Harry and the other person toppled to the floor. Neville Longbottom had somehow managed to control his cursed dancing feet just enough to be able to jump on Harry, forcing him to the ground. Whether it had been out of instinct or because he could tell that Lestrange's curse was coming their way, Harry did not know. The room was suddenly silent, but for the sound of sudden fast, running footsteps coming from Bellatrix's direction.

"Thanks Neville," Harry said as he attempted to get up. "Neville, mate, you're gonna have to move. It's difficult for me to get you off."

There was no reply.

"Neville?" Harry asked. "Neville?"

Still there was no reply. Neville's chin rested on the top of Harry's head, so he could not see his friend. Suddenly, he felt the weight lift off him and Remus Lupin's face came into view.

"Harry …" he said solemnly. "Are you … are you okay?"

Harry got up quickly and looked down at Neville, whose brown eyes stared at the ceiling, the life having been seemingly drained from them. The habitually shy and introverted boy had an oddly determined look etched on his face. Harry barely recognised Lupin's hand grasp his shoulder, nor did he recognise the sound of Dumbledore and Kingsley Shacklebolt moving around the room, tying up Death Eaters.

"He's …" Harry was strangely choked as he looked at his friend. "Neville … that … she …"

Harry looked into Neville's face with a sudden feeling of incomprehension. He felt like his eyes were deceiving him. Perhaps he had hit his head when he had fallen. That had to be it.

"No," Harry said defiantly. "No, this didn't happen. Everything's fine."

"Harry …" Lupin said sadly, but Harry shook off his hand.

"No!" he shouted. "He isn't dead! I'm not even awake. I hit my head!"

"Harry … Neville," Lupin was obviously straining himself as he spoke, placing his hand back on Harry's shoulder. "Neville's gone."

Suddenly Harry was filled with a blind fury, a rage the likes of which he had never felt before. He looked deep into Neville's eyes and, as if by magic, his friend's face turned into that of Bellatrix Lestrange's. He felt nothing but a burning desire for revenge.

Harry shook off Lupin's hand and turned, running to the exit. As he scrambled up the stone steps as quickly as he could he heard Lupin shouting something at him before Dumbledore said something in a calm, yet loud, voice. Harry had no desire to hear what any of them had to say. He felt his insides burn as he continued into the room where Ron had been attacked by the brains.

Luna was groaning on the floor while Ginny was nearby, clutching at her broken ankle. Ron was giggling almost uncontrollably while Hermione lay on the floor of the room, still unconscious. He heard Ginny say something as he sped past, but he only made out one word. "Lestrange".

 _Lestrange_ , Harry thought as he ran, the word causing his insides to change to acid. When he entered the circular room, it began to rotate quickly. Irritated, Harry began to shout.

"Where's the exit?!" he had skidded to a halt, just as the room did the same thing. "Where's the way out?!"

A door behind him opened and Harry raced out of it and into a corridor where he knew some lifts were. He ran faster than he had ever known he could and pushed a button. The grilles opened and Harry hastily moved inside, pushing a button marked 'Atrium', his heart beating too fast.

He paced as the lift ascended and when it finally stopped, he ran right out into the atrium and looked around the apparently empty room, swearing under his breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a red light hurtling towards him. He instinctively ducked and heard the spell hit the wall to his right, sending some debris into the air. He looked around to his left and saw Bellatrix emerge from behind a wall. Harry raised his wand.

"What do you think you'll do with that, little Harry?" Bellatrix taunted as though she were talking to a two year old. Harry fired off a stunner which she quickly deflected. "You see? You can't hurt me."

"You killed –" Harry began and Bellatrix cackled quickly.

"Yes, yes," she said with a smile that sickened Harry. "I killed the Longbottom boy. He didn't have to be the one to die though, itty baby Potter. He died because of you. He saved your life. But …" as Harry was momentarily paralysed at the truth of her words, she laughed. "I am glad I got the set."

Hatred rose in Harry such as he had never known before.

"Well," she continued, "all except that grandmother. But her time will come soon enough."

Harry had heard enough.

" _Crucio_!"

Bellatrix screamed, the Unforgivable Curse knocking her backwards and onto the floor below. Harry felt an intense and slightly perverse pleasure at the knowledge of her pain. However Bellatrix did not scream for long, and before he knew it, she was back on her feet.

"Not bad for a first-timer!" she yelled, her voice showing a renewed seriousness. "You can't just cast these curses, Potter! You need to mean them. You have to really _want_ to cause pain. I killed your overweight, undertrained, bumbling friend. Is that not enough to make you want to hurt me, boy? Here, how about I teach you?"

Harry ran. Not at Bellatrix, but away from her. This was apparently very funny to the older witch. She laughed as Harry tried to find cover.

" _Crucio_!" she screamed. Harry dodged out of the way and the curse hit the large fountain, causing debris to fly around everywhere. Harry whipped around.

" _Stupefy_!" he cried, but Bellatrix was ready for him as she blocked his spell which bounced off her shield and hit the statue of the wizard in the face. Harry raced to the fountain and ducked behind the wall of stone.

"Give me the prophecy, Potter!" Bellatrix screamed, her voice extremely high-pitched. "I'll get it either way!"

"Good luck!" Harry shouted back and a surge of pain shot through his scar. He thought of Neville who had smashed the Prophecy accidentally and felt a pang. "It's gone! And your master knows it! And I don't think he's very pleased!"

"What?" Bellatrix asked, for the first time betraying fear. "What do you mean?"

"It smashed," Harry said, thinking again of Neville. He felt liquid falling from his eyes, not from the memory of Neville but because his scar was throbbing painfully. Harry heard Bellatrix scream, " _Accio Prophecy_ ," and Harry was about to reply when he heard a voice.

"Now, now Bella," the high, cold voice said. "Harry is very much correct. The Prophecy died with that worthless Longbottom boy. I see it in his mind." Harry stood up from behind the fountain and saw Voldemort there close to Bellatrix, who now looked terrified.

"Master, I'm sorry," Bellatrix said, scrambling to her knees, her face brushing the floor. "I was fighting Black. I was distracted!"

"Silence," Voldemort said sharply and Bellatrix shut her mouth. "I do not wish to deal with you at this moment. I am not here to hear your excuses Bella.

"As for you, Potter," Voldemort said, rounding on Harry. He had a clear shot now. "You have thwarted yet another of my plans. I cannot allow this. _Avada Kedavra_!"

Harry was taken off guard. His wand was pointed at the floor as the green light hurtled towards him. Suddenly the golden wizard statue from the fountain jumped to the floor just in time to take the Killing Curse. Harry looked around and saw Dumbledore emerging from one of the lifts, wand raised. He was alone.

"Ah, Tom," he said evenly. "I must admit, I had not imagined that you would turn up tonight. You are far too curious for your own good."

A green light shot at Dumbledore, who turned on the spot and disappeared. He appeared on the other side of the Atrium.

"I do wonder," Dumbledore continued as if nothing had happened, "if you know that the Aurors will be here soon. Kingsley Shacklebolt alerted them."

"By which time I shall be gone, and you shall be dead!" Voldemort shrieked, sending another Killing Curse at Dumbledore who turned on the spot.

"Oh, I very much doubt that, Tom," Dumbledore said, still as calm as he had been when he entered the room. "This is not the day I die."

"It matters not what you think, old man!" Voldemort yelled, sending a third curse which Dumbledore Apparated to avoid once more. Harry could not see Dumbledore anymore. "Where's your _Gryffindor_ courage, Dumbledore?" Voldemort sneered. A voice came from above.

"Wherever it is that you left your Slytherin cunning, Tom," Dumbledore replied. Voldemort looked upwards almost comically as he tried to locate the Hogwarts Headmaster. "Although, I admit that luring Harry and his friends here _was_ very cunning of you. One wonders if you had someone advising you."

"You dare?!" Voldemort shrieked, pointing his wand wildly. Harry noticed Bellatrix looking around as well. Suddenly, the statue of the witch ran at Bellatrix who cried out as it leapt on her, pinning her to the ground. Voldemort watched this, but did nothing but look for Dumbledore as Bellatrix cried out for help. "Why not kill me, Dumbledore? Why not end it?"

"Come now, Tom," Harry heard Dumbledore reply, though he could not say where the voice was. "There are many ways of destroying a man. Your unwillingness to believe this is your one weakness."

Voldemort shot a curse into the air, apparently having seen something that Harry had not. Dumbledore reappeared on the ground behind Voldemort, near where the statue of the woman was crushing Bellatrix.

"There is _nothing_ worse than death!" Voldemort snarled as he spotted Dumbledore once again. Before Dumbledore spoke, Harry heard the distinct sound of Phoenix song and Fawkes appeared in a blaze of flame above Dumbledore's head.

"It is hardly surprising you believe that, Tom," Dumbledore replied conversationally. "Alas, you are quite wrong, as you are so very often. How are we tonight, Bella?" Bellatrix shouted obscenities at him.

"You think this amusing, Dumbledore?" Voldemort asked angrily, shooting a deep purple spell at Dumbledore which he swiftly dodged before disappearing with Fawkes in a burst of flame, leaving only smoke where he was. "Why do you not fight me? Do you not have it in you any more, old man?"

"No, I do not find this amusing," Dumbledore replied and Harry realised that he had materialised with Fawkes in front of the Centaur statue near him. "And I do have it in me. I merely fail to see why I should waste my magic on the likes of you, Tom."

" _Avada Kedavra_!" the curse hurtled towards Dumbledore who flicked his wand and the Centaur behind him leapt over his head, landed in front of him and took the curse, smashing into dust.

Flames suddenly leapt from Voldemort's wand and hurtled towards Dumbledore, who twirled his wand and all of the water from the fountain left and moved in front of Dumbledore like a shield. As the flames attacked the water, steam billowed and filled the room to the point that Harry's glasses almost fogged up. Voldemort apparently stopped the flames as Dumbledore made the rest of the water fill the fountain again. As he did, Harry saw the jet of green light.

"Look out!" he cried to Dumbledore. Dumbledore did not give any indication that he had heard Harry, but Fawkes swooped down in front of him, opened his beak wider than Harry thought possible for a bird of that size and swallowed the curse. Fawkes burst in to flame and fell to the floor.

At the same time, Voldemort screamed in frustration and suddenly vanished.

"Stay where you are, Harry," Dumbledore said quickly. Bellatrix was sobbing under the statue of the witch.

Harry's scar burst open and he was certain that he had somehow died. There was no other way to explain the pain he now experienced. He was no longer in the Atrium of the Ministry. All he knew was a creature with red eyes that coiled around him so tightly that Harry did not know where his body ended and the creatures began. The pain was unbearable. The creature spoke using Harry's mouth and Harry's jaw felt as if he had not moved it in a millennium.

"Kill me now, Dumbledore …"

Harry could not see his surroundings, but his body screamed. He wanted the pain to end. He wanted Dumbledore to obey the creature. _The pain …_

"If death is nothing, Dumbledore, kill the boy …"

 _Maybe then I'll get to meet my parents. Introduce them to Neville…_

Suddenly and inexplicably, Harry felt an emotion other than pain. When this new emotion overran his body, he could feel the creature's grip lessen substantially. The next moment, it was gone entirely and the pain left Harry as quickly as it had come upon him, leaving only the slightest hint that it was ever there in the first place.

Harry could tell he was on the ground and that he was shivering. He opened his eyes slightly and could see his glasses next to him. He reached out slowly, shivering as though cold, and slipped them on. He could hear voices.

"I saw him, Mr Fudge, I swear it was You-Know-Who, he grabbed a woman and Disapparated!" The voice was unfamiliar to Harry.

"I know, Williamson, I know, I saw him too," Harry heard Fudge gibbering. He continued, but Harry could not hear him very well. Harry attempted to stand as Dumbledore walked away.

"If you proceed into the Department of Mysteries, Cornelius," Harry heard Dumbledore say. He also heard several gasps, "you will find several escaped Death Eaters contained in the Death Chamber bound by an Anti-Disapparation Jinx and awaiting your decision as to what to do with them."

Harry could now stand and walked into sight of the Ministry witches and wizards, though they evidently did not see him. He noticed Percy Weasley among them. Fudge was spluttering.

"Yes, yes," Dumbledore said impatiently. "Just send your men down there. I have to deal with Harry."

"Harry Potter?" Cornelius asked sharply. The group noticed him now.

"Yes. Harry Potter," Dumbledore replied equally as sharply and in a loud tone of voice that made none of the Ministry witches and wizards respond. "Now, are you going to give the order to the Aurors or shall I?" He turned as Fudge talked to some Aurors. When Dumbledore was looking into Harry's eyes, Harry could only say one word.

"Neville."

"I had Remus take his body back to Hogwarts," Dumbledore said quietly. "I know you are feeling terrible, Harry, but I must send you straight to my office."

Harry nodded vaguely, the image of Neville's face floating in front of his eyes. Dumbledore picked up a piece of the statue, pointed his wand at it and whispered, " _Portus_."

"I will get there as soon as I possibly can, Harry," Dumbledore assured him. "I'm afraid I will have to deal with Cornelius before then." He held out the piece of the shattered statue and Harry took it. "One … two … three …"


	3. Colin I

_**Disclaimer:**_ _I make no claim to the rights of any characters that are owned by J.K. Rowling or Warner Bros., and make no money from this venture. This work is purely for entertainment purposes._

* * *

—CHAPTER TWO—

 _Colin_

Colin Creevey had found himself awake earlier than he usually would be as he hadn't slept well the previous night. The previous day had been rather terrifying, and Colin wasn't afraid to admit that fact. After Dumbledore was forced to leave the school and Umbridge had taken over as Headmistress, Professor McGonagall had represented the last vestige of safety within Hogwarts, and then she had been attacked on the grounds of the very school that she had devoted her life to defend.

Colin had always had something of a soft spot for stern Professor McGonagall as she had been the one who told him that he was a wizard when he turned eleven. The very same day, Professor McGonagall had said that it was something of a phenomenon that two Muggle-born brothers would both turn out to have magical abilities. According to her, there was usually just one Muggle-born in any given family if there were any at all.

The day that Professor McGonagall had shown up at his house was the happiest day of his life. For the first time Colin finally understood himself. For the longest time he had been aware that strange things happened around him, but he could not explain it. It hadn't helped that his family had never witnessed one of these odd occurrences before. Dennis had never told him about his accidental magic when it happened either, and Colin had never witnessed his brother doing anything odd or out of the ordinary. It was a shock to everyone except Colin when Professor McGonagall had asked him if he had ever experienced anything odd.

Knowing that Professor McGonagall was no longer at Hogwarts made Colin feel decidedly less safe, and made his sleep quite restless. It wasn't helped by the fact that Dennis had been even more concerned than Colin, and Colin had to try and act less scared than he actually was because he didn't want Dennis to worry about it all.

Prior to this year, Colin's Fourth Year, he had been lonely at Hogwarts. Particularly in his First and Second years. His Fourth Year had been much more enjoyable, however, as he and Dennis had joined Dumbledore's Army. Colin had not been a part of something like this before in his life. The only friend that Colin actually had at Hogwarts before he joined the DA, and after as things panned out, was his little brother. Colin couldn't blame anyone else for that, though. He had brought it all upon himself in his First Year.

On Colin's eleventh birthday, the seventeenth of November 1991, a woman had arrived at his house. Professor Minerva McGonagall. She informed his family that he and his brother were wizards. Colin, as excitable as he was, had wanted to head to Diagon Alley right away, but Professor McGonagall told him that Hogwarts book lists wouldn't be released until sometime in August the following year.

Colin remembered expressing a great deal of impatience. Looking back on it, Colin found the whole thing rather embarrassing. Professor McGonagall ended up offering to lend him some Magical History books to help Colin get a little bit of a background information about the world that he was about to enter into. It was in one of these history books that Colin had read a short biography about a child named Harry Potter who was only a few months older than he was.

The biography itself mainly spoke about the downfall of one of the most powerful Dark Lords in history. In time Colin had discovered that this Dark Lord's name was actually Voldemort, though people in the magical community mainly called him You-Know-Who out of fear. Colin didn't share their fear, but made sure to refer to Voldemort as You-Know-Who around others. All of this information, while certainly interesting, wasn't Colin's main point of interest. He focused on one thing in that biography. The boy who defeated Voldemort was close to his own age.

Upon finding a carriage on the Hogwarts Express, people told Colin more about this so-called Boy Who Lived. Colin was taken aback at Harry Potter's apparent celebrity in their world. As a result of this, Colin, who had not had a really good friend in his life, formulated a plan to get Harry Potter to be his friend.

This plan didn't work. He treated Harry like a celebrity, assuming that, like most Muggle celebrities, this would be what Harry would want. It wasn't until Professor Lockhart vanished the bones in Harry's arm that Colin finally, and horrifically, realised how little Harry enjoyed his celebrity. He had attempted to seek out Harry in the Hospital Wing to apologise, but was rebuffed by the Madam Pomfrey. So he snuck out at night and was petrified by the Basilisk terrorizing students. It wasn't only his body that had been petrified that night. It had also solidified the other students' view of him. That crazy stalker boy who was in love with Harry Potter.

Colin's Second Year was a lonely one. He didn't have any friends and seemed to just glide through school unnoticed but for the occasional bullying by those who remembered how he had acted in his First Year. Then, the following year, his brother joined the school and, all of a sudden, Colin felt more invigorated. He now had someone to actually talk to. It wasn't the same as having a friend, but it was close enough. He and his brother were rather close, so Colin didn't feel so alone any longer.

Then Dumbledore's Army had been forged and Colin thought that he would finally make the friends that he had been missing all those years. Alas, though everyone treated him well enough, no one seemed to take any notice of him outside of the meetings.

When Colin had gotten ready for the day and walked slowly downstairs, he noticed Harry entering through the portrait hole. There was no one else in the Common Room at this point as it was earlier than usual. Immediately upon seeing Harry, Colin could tell that something was wrong. Harry looked distinctly like he had not slept. In fact, he looked terribly miserable and weary. There was an air of defeat about him.

"Harry?" Colin said quietly. Harry looked up quickly. He looked as if he had no idea where he was and how he got there. "Are you alright?"

"Uh …" Harry looked around the Common Room. "How … how did I get here?"

"What's wrong?" Colin asked nervously. Harry looked at him.

"Colin?" Harry asked. "Uh … I'm supposed to be …at the Hospital Wing, I think. I don't know how I got here. I …" Harry's eyes seemed to see something that Colin couldn't, and the smaller boy saw something he had never seen before. He saw tears forming in Harry's eyes. Colin followed Harry's eyes and saw a round glass ball with white smoke. Colin recognised it as a Remembrall. Probably Neville Longbottom's.

"How about I walk with you to the Hospital Wing?" Colin suggested and Harry looked back at him. He quickly wiped his eyes.

"I … I suppose so," Harry said distractedly. "I need to make sure they're okay."

Colin wasn't really sure what to do, so he reached out and physically turned Harry around, pointing him back to the portrait hole. Harry walked slowly towards it and Colin walked at his side, his hand between Harry's shoulders.

"Well, make up your mind then," the Fat Lady said irritably as they exited. "It's early you know."

Colin ignored her, thinking only about what Harry meant by making sure "they're" okay. Colin immediately thought of Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Harry barely went anywhere without them, and it wasn't exactly out of character for the three of them to have some kind of adventure through the night. _It's usually around this time of year_ , Colin thought to himself.

The two said nothing to each other as they walked to the Hospital Wing. Occasionally Colin realised they were going to go in the wrong direction so he had to steer Harry in the right direction. But when they were just two corridors away, Harry suddenly stopped in his tracks. It took Colin three steps to notice. When he looked back at Harry, there was a strange look on his face.

"I can't do it," Harry said quietly. Colin walked back towards him. "I'm not ready. It's my fault."

Colin had no idea what was going on. To him, nothing Harry said made any sense at all.

"Do you want to talk?" Colin asked, not really knowing what else to say. Harry looked at him for a few seconds.

"I … I don't know, Colin," he said. Colin nodded understandingly. "I just. Last night was a nightmare." _What happened last night?_ Colin asked himself quickly. He wanted to ask it aloud, but he felt that it might be insensitive. "I just … Don't worry. Let's just … head to the Hospital Wing."

"Alright," Colin replied. In the back of his mind, he wanted Harry to confide in him. Tell him what was going on. It wasn't like Colin would tell anyone. Colin would never betray Harry's confidence in any way. It didn't take them long to get to the Hospital Wing after that, and Colin was greeted with a scene that he had not expected.

Several beds were occupied by faces that Colin recognised. Closest to the entrance was Ginny Weasley who was actually being attended to by Madame Pomfrey, though she looked to be alright. Luna Lovegood occupied the next bed. She appeared to be snoring lightly. On the bed next to her was Ron Weasley who was asleep. Next to Ron was Hermione Granger, also apparently asleep. On the other side of the room, there was only one other bed occupied. It was Professor Moody, the previous year's Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor. He was wide awake and grumbling.

When they entered the Hospital Wing, Harry turned and looked down to Colin.

"Thank you, Colin," he said quietly. He moved towards Hermione's bed, but Colin grabbed his arm lightly.

"Harry," Colin said, unsure exactly what he was wanting to say, "you know you can talk to me. Whenever you need to." Colin saw Harry smile for the first time that day. It actually seemed like the first real smile that Harry had ever given him.

"I …" Harry said quietly. "Thanks Colin. That means a lot." Following that, Harry went and sat by the bedside of Hermione. Colin looked over at Ginny who had apparently not yet seen the two of them enter the Hospital Wing.

"Hi Colin," Ginny said with a smile. Colin smiled back. Ginny was one of the only people who consistently treated him nicely. He often wondered why. "What are you doing here?"

"Harry showed up at the Common Room this morning a bit lost," Colin told her as he walked to her bedside. Madam Pomfrey was now engaged in an argument with Moody who evidently thought he was fine despite not being able to stand well on his good leg. "I walked him here. What happened?"

"I guess you'll find out eventually," Ginny said quietly, looking over at Harry. "Word gets around this school faster than Apparation." Colin laughed.

"Yes, it's a rather interesting phenomenon," Colin agreed.

"Anyway, I'm fairly sure I can trust you not to tell anyone," Ginny said and Colin nodded. "We kind of … left the school and got into the Ministry of Magic."

Ginny filled Colin in with everything that she knew. She said that no one had told her what had happened in the chamber where Harry and Neville had gone, though she had said that Harry had chased Bellatrix Lestrange out of there with Dumbledore following not long after. Despite all of this, Colin felt that there was something she wasn't saying. She hadn't mentioned why, exactly, Mad-Eye Moody was in the Hospital Wing with them for one thing. Colin knew better than to pry and, so, kept his mouth shut.

"Have you seen Neville?" Ginny asked. Colin shook his head.

"No," he said. "I woke up early when I ran into Harry. I haven't seen anyone but you since."

"I suspect he's in bed," Ginny replied. "I think he broke his wand last night, but I can't really be sure. A lot happened. It seems like he, Harry and I got the best of it."

"Good morning Colin," a dreamy voice said from the next bed. Luna Lovegood was now seated upright in her bed. She looked a little worse for wear, but otherwise seemed alright. "Might I inquire as to the time?" Colin looked at his watch.

"7:15," Colin replied. Before the DA, Colin didn't have all that much to do with Luna despite the two of them being in the same year and sharing classes together. She was pleasant enough, but she was also quite shy. Colin knew that a lot of people thought her strange, but he didn't seem to mind that. Perhaps it had something to do with people thinking he was strange as well.

"Oh bugger," she said, sounding disappointed. "I'm eight minutes late. I always get up at 7:07."

"Why's that?" Colin asked, smiling slightly.

"The number seven is a highly magical number," Luna replied, looking slightly downcast. I like 7:07 because not only are there two sevens, but they add up to give fourteen, which is just double seven. It's for luck." Ginny giggled.

"For Luna that is perfectly sane," she whispered to Colin, who smiled. He actually did think it was reasonable. Seven was a magical number. Whether it was actually a lucky number in wizarding culture, he didn't know.

"Perhaps I should start waking up then as well," Colin said brightly. Luna smiled for the first time that day.

"Oh, yes, I think you should. Everyone could use a bit more luck. Although it doesn't seem to have done any good last night." She looked around the room. "Where's Neville?" Colin heard a choking sound come from Harry's direction, which he attempted to turn into a cough.

"Colin and I were just talking about that," Ginny told Luna. "We think he might have gone up to bed."

"That does seem likely," Luna replied dreamily, her eyes on the back of Harry's head. "I wonder how long I'll have to stay here."

"Mr Creevey?" Madame Pomfrey suddenly said. Apparently dealing with Moody had taken longer than expected. Either that or something else had turned up. "When did you get here?"

"Oh, I came with Harry," Colin said quickly. "I stayed to visit with Ginny and Luna."

"Well I would advise you to go and have some breakfast," Madame Pomfrey said. "I have been told that classes are being cancelled today. There are no Defence or Transfiguration teachers at the school, and we lack a Headmistress and a Deputy. Miss Weasley and Miss Lovegood, you may go with Mr Creevey to breakfast. However, the Headmaster has asked me to make sure you come back here as soon as you are finished."

Colin could not believe what he had just heard. Umbridge was gone. Ginny had told him that Harry and Hermione had led Umbridge into the Forbidden Forest, but Colin had just assumed that Umbridge would have made her way back.

"I wonder what happened to Umbridge?" Ginny asked with a very broad smile.

"Who cares?" Colin asked, bemused. It felt strange walking to the Great Hall for breakfast with anyone other than Dennis. He vaguely wondered whether Dennis was already in the Hall. But he knew that his little brother would be fine. Dennis had other friends.

"Oh, I have a theory," Luna piped up. Ginny nudged Colin on the arm. "I think that Harry and Hermione led Professor Umbridge into the forest where they were set upon by a group of centaurs. When Professor Umbridge offended them, as we all know she would, they took her captive." Ginny giggled again, but Colin didn't think it was too bad a theory. At least it didn't involve Nargles or the Crumple-Horned Snorkack. There _were_ centaurs in the forest, after all.

The Great Hall was buzzing as they entered, yet it was not completely full. Most people got to the Great Hall around eight o'clock. As it turns out, a lot of people were perplexed as to where Umbridge was. The staff table was actually quite empty, which did seem off to Colin. Umbridge, McGonagall and Hagrid were all gone, but Snape and Trelawney were also absent, though they often skipped breakfasts. As they entered, Luna veered off to sit at the Ravenclaw table. Colin grabbed her arm.

"You want to sit with us this morning?" he asked. "No one'll mind."

"And if they do," Ginny agreed, "they'll have to answer to me."

"Oh," Luna said happily. "How kind of you! I would love to join you!"

And join them she did. When they sat at the table, Colin saw Dennis further down talking to some of his own friends. Colin was usually there with him. Colin smiled.

He, Luna and Ginny ate breakfast together without being harassed at all. There was, however, a commotion over at the Slytherin table at one point, though Colin didn't pay it much notice. He was much more focused on his discussion with Ginny and Luna. Luna had been discussing her father's views about Minister Fudge for quite some time when Professor Flitwick rose to the podium at the front of the staff table. Colin had no idea how the tiny man made himself seen over it.

"May I have a moment of your time?" he squeaked rather loudly. The Hall quietened almost immediately. It was clear that Professor Flitwick commanded great respect within the school. "I would just like to announce that, as a result of our lack of Care of Magical Creatures, Transfiguration and Defence Professors," there was a small cheer, "there will be no classes today. Also, any inquiries that would normally go to Headmaster or Deputy should come to me today in my normal office. Thank you."

"Well then," Ginny said amongst the sudden noise in the Hall. "Luna and I had best be getting back to the Hospital Wing."

"Would you like me to walk with you?" Colin asked, finding the sudden friendship of Ginny and Luna strangely comforting. He didn't really want them to leave in case they never came back. "I don't have anything else to do."

"I don't mind," Luna said, gazing at something in the distance. "It's nice to have another friend."

Colin's heart leapt.

"I don't see why not," Ginny said. "It'll be nice to have the company."

The walk to the Hospital Wing did not take too long at all. When they got there, they found Harry sitting outside on a bench, staring out a window. Upon hearing their footsteps, Harry looked up.

"Dumbledore wants to see you two," Harry said to Ginny and Luna. He glanced at Colin for a moment, and then looked out the window again.

"Are you alright?" Ginny asked Harry. Colin felt it was kind of an obvious answer.

"I'm fine," Harry said insincerely. Ginny appeared to notice, but said nothing. She and Luna walked into the Hospital Wing leaving Colin outside. Colin stood there awkwardly for a moment.

"I'll be off then," he said and Harry looked up.

"You, uh, don't have to go," Harry said. "If you don't want to." It was clear that Harry didn't want to be alone. Colin went over and sat down near him. There was a silence which stretched for half a minute that Harry finally broke.

"I feel like I owe you an explanation," Harry said quietly.

"You don't owe me anything," Colin replied without really thinking. "I just walked you here. Anyone would have done the same."

"I do. I must have weirded you out," Harry said solemnly. "How much do you know?"

"Ginny told me what she knows," Colin replied truthfully. Harry nodded.

"So I assume you don't know what happened inside the other room?" Colin shook his head. "Well, the Death Eaters continued their attack, but then some members of the Order, I assume you know what that is, arrived. Bellatrix Lestrange almost killed one of the Order, but Dumbledore saved them. And then …" There was a long pause. Colin, having never been close enough with anyone before in his life to have ever been a part of a conversation such as this, had no idea what he was supposed to do or say.

"It's okay, Harry," Colin said, hoping that this was the right thing to say. He looked at Harry who, just as he had been earlier, was tearing up.

"That … that bitch," Harry said angrily. Colin had never heard Harry speak in such a way. "She killed Neville."

And all of a sudden, Colin was at a loss for words. He suddenly noticed everything as if it had fallen into place. Neville's absence. Harry tearing up at the sight of the Remembrall. Dumbledore needing to have a word with Ginny and Luna. Colin's insides ran cold.

As if on cue, Colin heard a scream from the Hospital Wing.

"NOOOOOO!"

He wasn't sure if it had been Ginny or Luna, or perhaps even an awoken Hermione. But he knew it was the second worst sound that he had ever heard in his life.

Colin wished he had known Neville better than he had. He felt that his shocked and saddened reaction was not nearly enough. It felt inadequate when he could now hear sobs from the Hospital Wing and could see that two tears had fallen down on Harry's cheeks. He felt inadequate not feeling what the others were feeling.

He had known Neville, sure. He had even liked him. Neville had been nice to him and had never once made fun of him. Yet he didn't feel anything but a cold sensation in his stomach, a deep regret and a pang of sorrow. It was nothing compared to what others were feeling.

After a few minutes where neither boy spoke, Colin broke the silence.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked Harry, who looked at him with his head cocked a little to the left. "You don't really like me. You never have." There was a silence.

"I don't hate you, Colin," Harry said quietly. "I just didn't like how you were in your First Year."

"Why the sudden change?" Colin asked. If he was being truthful, he felt a bit suspicious.

"Well, this morning you helped me when I needed it," Harry said. Colin was going to interrupt but thought better of it. "If you hadn't have been there, I don't know what I would have done. There was something else, too. While you were at breakfast, I talked to Dumbledore. He told me something I think I needed to hear."

"What's that?" Colin asked.

"He told me what you are," Harry said. Colin raised his eyebrows at that. "See, I always just saw you as a 'Boy Who Lived' fan. After my First Year, I couldn't think otherwise of anyone treating me like a celebrity. I just took it for granted. And Dumbledore told me something I had never really thought about."

"What did he tell you?" Colin asked.

"You're Muggle-born," Harry said simply.

"Yeah …" Colin said slowly, as that was common knowledge.

"Yes. Muggle-born," Harry said. "How could a Muggle-born possibly be a fan of the 'Boy Who Lived'? I mean, Hermione knew who I was on the train in my First Year, and she is one of the only people in the magical world that actually understands me. She knew I was the Boy-Who-Lived, but it meant nothing to her but words on a page. I have a question for you Colin."

"Go ahead," Colin said apprehensively. He suspected he knew what was coming.

"If you are a Muggle-born," Harry said carefully, "why did you act like I was such a celebrity?"

Colin paused for a moment.

"I thought it would get you to like me," Colin replied finally. "I know now that it was a stupid idea. You don't like your fame. You hate it."

"But why me?" Harry asked. "Why me specifically? There were heaps of other people who would have been your friend."

Colin paused again. He had never spoken his concerns aloud, not even to Dennis. Dennis had never had as much trouble as he had.

"Before Hogwarts, I didn't have friends," Colin said. A look crossed Harry's face that Colin couldn't place. "I don't know why. I'm sure you've noticed that I'm not exactly an introvert. I spent all my time with my brother and his friends. Anyway, when I left for Hogwarts, I felt like I had to get friends. And the reason I chose you was because you were the only person I actually knew of in the magical world. I read a biography piece in a book that told me you are only a few months older than me and I instantly thought that I should try to make you my friend."

"Nothing to do with Voldemort?" Harry asked and Colin shook his head. "I just assumed."

"I get it," Colin replied. He really did understand why Harry had not liked him. It was everyone else that he didn't understand. They didn't speak for a while, the only sound being the now quieter sobs coming from the Hospital Wing.

Colin had a sudden childish urge to ask Harry if they were friends.


	4. Bellatrix I

_**Disclaimer:**_ _I make no claim to the rights of any characters that are owned by J.K. Rowling or Warner Bros., and make no money from this venture. This work is purely for entertainment purposes._

* * *

—CHAPTER THREE—

 _Bellatrix_

Bellatrix Lestrange was very aware of her feet. It was a strange thing to be aware of, she mused silently as she lay on the cold, stone floor. She had never given much thought to her feet before, but after more than twenty-four hours of being tortured on and off, she could not feel anything except her feet. She had never expected her feet to hold out as long as they did under this amount of torture.

Bella looked up at the snakeish face of her master who stood over her, wand raised, ready once again to strike.

" _Crucio_!" he cried and Bella felt her back arch away from the stone floor almost immediately, the pain lancing through her body. Her mouth opened and she screamed again as she had done for hours. She was amazed that she could scream for that long. She had always had quite a set of lungs, though, so it shouldn't have been much of a surprise. The Dark Lord held the curse for only fifteen seconds and then he stopped torturing his most trusted lieutenant.

Without speaking, the Dark Lord turned and exited the room, slamming the door behind him, leaving only the darkness and the residual pain behind. Bella could hear the slight clicking sound that indicated a locking charm on the door. The room in which Bella was currently locked was small and cramped. There was no bed and contained only a chamber pot and a window. She managed to slide over to the wall where she was able to prop herself up into a seated position.

As much as she disliked the torture, she could not deny that she had earned it. She had failed abysmally in her task. Well, she and Lucius had failed abysmally. But Lucius wasn't there to share the blame with her. The bastard was locked safely away in Azkaban. Or at least he would be by now. That left her to feel the Dark Lord's wrath all by herself and she soon found herself wishing she was back in Azkaban.

Bella had never seen the Dark Lord so utterly angry, and it frightened her. Never had she been tortured for so long. Certainly, the Dark Lord had tortured her in the past, but never like this. She was beginning to wonder if she had perhaps lost all that she had spent years building with her master. She felt it unfair that one blunder would cost her everything.

It was a massive blunder, however. Not only had she failed to get the all-important Prophecy, the other Death Eaters had been captured and sent to Azkaban, the Order of the Phoenix had sustained no sizeable losses and Dumbledore and Potter were both still drawing breath. In fact, the only positive thing that occurred at the Ministry was that she managed to kill the Longbottom boy. Granted, she had been aiming for Potter, but a kill is a kill. Besides, she couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction knowing that Longbottom was dead.

Bella laughed lightly, causing a pain to shoot through her ribs. She coughed once.

The Longbottom boy was never going to amount to anything, anyway. The only reason he managed to get as far as he did in the Department of Mysteries was more talented friends and luck. The way Snape talked about him, she was surprised that he had gotten that far even with that.

The one thing that she really regretted was that Dumbledore thwarted her plan to kill her dear cousin Sirius. It was beautiful. She wouldn't have even had to cast the Killing Curse at him. Wouldn't that have been the way? Sirius Black, warrior for the light, killed without even a single dark curse. Only a trip through the Veil and to the other side, whatever that might be. It had been so glorious. In fact, she had felt entirely assured that Sirius would die that very night, but Dumbledore intervened somehow. It was infuriating.

Not as infuriating as the Dark Lord found it that Dumbledore still drew breath, of course. Despite the fact that she had been trapped under a statue, the Dark Lord still blamed her for not getting involved somehow. She could not see much logic in that, though she would never say as much to her master. That would mean certain death for her. If it weren't her, it would have meant constant torture.

The Dark Lord had not been gone five minutes when Bella heard the locking charm lift and the door open to reveal the rat, Peter Pettigrew. She wanted to spit at him. She had never trusted Pettigrew in the slightest and was desperately annoyed that he had not been at the Ministry.

"The Dark Lord wants you to read this," he said simply, throwing a newspaper into her lap. "The front page will be enough."

She glared at the sorry excuse for a man, though she couldn't help but think that she wasn't very intimidating at the time. She was sitting on the floor, her hair was wilder than usual and she could feel that her clothes were torn. Pettigrew stood at the door and watched her.

Bella picked up the newspaper and unfolded it quickly. Her heart sank as she read the headline.

 **HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED RETURNS**

 _Minister for Magic Cornelius Oswald Fudge has today announced that You-Know-Who has, in fact, returned. The announcement comes following an attack on the Ministry of Magic and the capture of several of You-Know-Who's Death Eaters last night. Sources have confirmed that Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter, two of Magical Britain's most controversial figures of this past year, were involved in some capacity, though the full extent of their involvement is not yet known._

 _"It is with great regret that I must confirm that the wizard styling himself Lord – well, you know who I mean – is alive and among us once again," Fudge told reporters in a swiftly thrown together press conference, looking extremely tired and flustered. "It is with almost equal regret that we report the mass revolt of the Dementors of Azkaban, who have shown themselves averse to continuing in the Ministry's employ. We believe the dementors are currently taking direction from Lord … uh … Thingy._

 _"We urge the magician population to remain vigilant. The Ministry is currently publishing guides to elementary home and personal defence which will be delivered free of charge to all wizarding homes within the coming month."_

 _These new claims from Minister Fudge were met with much expected dismay and alarm from the community. The Ministry itself had been informing the populous that there was "no truth whatsoever in these persistent rumours that You-Know-Who is operating amongst us once more" for months now._

 _While we can confirm that it was the Department of Mysteries that was broken into by You-Know-Who and his forces, we cannot confirm why they did so._

 _Chief among the believers that You-Know-Who had returned after the disastrous end to the Triwizard Tournament, which ended in the death of Cedric Diggory, was Albus Dumbledore who Fudge has reinstated as Headmaster of Hogwarts now that the Ministry acknowledges his claims as true. We have yet to reach Headmaster Dumbledore for comment._

 _As for "The Boy Who Lived", there has been no mention of why Harry Potter was at the Ministry at the time of the attack. When asked about Harry Potter, Fudge replied only, "No comment."_

Bella had read enough. She was shaking, partially with fury and partially from the torture. She tossed the newspaper to the feet of Pettigrew who leaned down and picked it up.

"It mentions you as well," he said. Bella glared at him and he cowered away only slightly. "On page twelve. They go through what they know and they talk about you being trapped under a statue."

"Get out!" Bella shrieked at Pettigrew, trying to push herself to her feet, but failing and falling back to the stone floor.

"Yes, Wormtail," said the high, cold voice of the Dark Lord. "Do get out. I have things to _discuss_ with Bellatrix. Alone."

"Y-yes my-my Lord," Pettigrew cowered, bowing his head and moving out of sight.

The Dark Lord entered the room silently, closing the door behind him, locking it and, surprising Bella, he performed a charm on it to make sure that nothing could be heard. If he was going to torture her further, he would never do that. He always wanted people to hear the screams of those he tortured.

There was a clatter on the stone floor in front of Bella and she saw her wand roll towards her. Bella reached out and picked it up. As she did, the Dark Lord conjured just one chair and gestured towards it. The chair looked rather more comfortable than the cold floor, so Bella, with a great effort, managed to get up from the floor using the wall to steady herself. She then walked slowly over to the chair, where she sat, facing her master who loomed over her.

"I do not deserve your mercy, my Lord," Bella said quietly.

"That much is obvious," the Dark Lord replied in a cold voice. "Had it been anyone else who had failed me so completely, they would be dead."

"Thank you, my Lord," Bella said, moving to get off her chair and grovel at her master's feet. She felt a bony hand push her back into the seat.

"Now, now Bella," the Dark Lord said sardonically. "Grovelling does not suit you. I expect that of Wormtail and _Lucius_ ," he seemed to spit the name out, "but not of you."

"Of course my Lord," Bella replied, bowing her head. The Dark Lord's bony finger brushed her cheek and she felt a chill go down her spine.

"I think," he said, turning away from her, "I can forgive this discretion in light of your folly last night. As it so happens, I still have need of you."

"What would you have me do, master?" Bella asked, a smile creeping up to her withered face. The torture had done more than she had realised.

"Well," the Dark Lord replied, "at this moment, I am lacking in Death Eaters. Many were taken at the Ministry. Some of them being rather trusted members. The only competent Death Eaters I have left are Severus, the Carrows, Yaxley and yourself. Yaxley is busy fooling the Ministry, the Carrows might be competent, but only barely and Severus is continuing at his post at Hogwarts."

"My Lord," Bella interrupted, regretting it almost as soon as the words left her lips. She continued the thought nonetheless, "can you really trust a man so close to Dumbledore? He could be a spy."

"I am aware of your opinions on this matter," the Dark Lord said icily. "Severus has given me most valuable information about the workings of Dumbledore and has given no sense of deception."

"He _is_ an Occlumens," Bella pointed out. The Dark Lord seemed to hiss.

"That is of no consequence," he replied, his voice now colder than ice. "No Occlumens short of the old fool himself would be able to resist my Legilimency. You cannot, Bella. Or do I need to remind you?"

"No, my Lord," Bella said quickly. "Forgive me. I am still feeling the effects of my well-deserved torture." The Dark Lord seemed to scoff, though it came out sounding like a hiss.

"The point is, I have few people to help with my plans," he said, looking right into her eyes. Bella smiled.

"Of course. Anything, my Lord," Bella responded quickly. "Shall I raid Muggle towns?"

"Oh … not just yet," her master responded with a sardonic smile. "My plans for the moment are of far greater consequence. Albus Dumbledore, the fool that he is, was insolent at the Ministry. He would not fight me, the weak, blinded old man. Gryffindor he may be, but cowardly he is. I wish to teach him a lesson. However, I do not think that an immediate attack on his precious castle is advisable at the moment. I need someone on the inside."

"Snape?" Bella spat the question and the Dark Lord glared at her, his red eyes seeming to radiate heat.

"No, Bella. Severus is of greater use if he remains Dumbledore's 'loyal' pet for the moment," the Dark Lord responded, his mouth twisting into a smile that was most pleasing to Bella. "This plan will use your own connections, dear Bella."

Bella's mind struggled to see how any of her connections would be of use in a plan involving Hogwarts. With the exception of Snape, she had no connections with any of the staff. And then it hit her.

"Draco?" she asked simply, keeping the surprise out of her voice. "You want to use Draco?"

"Indeed," the Dark Lord said, his tone flat. "He is perfect for the role. By now he will know of his father's capture and he will be scared, and rightly so, of retribution. He will do anything I ask of him, or I will kill his father. The Dementors no longer guard Azkaban, so I can break in and out as easily as I kill a Muggle."

"What would you have the boy do?" Bella asked, a smile rising at the thought of her nephew making her proud. She had not seen little Draco since he was a toddler, spending most of his life alone in a cell, screaming.

"Dumbledore is a fool," the Dark Lord said simply. "A fool who cannot resist helping the dear little Mudbloods. Next year there will be a new batch of First Year students, some of them will be Mudbloods. What will happen to Dumbledore when none of the baby Mudbloods show up for their first year of schooling?" Bella cackled.

"Brilliant, my Lord," she said happily. "Something like that is sure to break the old fool. But, forgive me my lord, where does Draco factor in?"

"Lucius' son will steal the list of First Years for next year," he replied and Bella's smile nearly faltered. "When I was leeching off of the weak wizard, Quirrell, I heard of the list, though I was never allowed anywhere near it. McGonagall keeps it close to her, and doesn't let anyone but herself and Dumbledore so much as see it. It is said to include the home address of each potential student. Including the Mudbloods."

"If McGonagall keeps it close, how is Draco expected to get it?" Bella asked. The Dark Lord laughed a high-pitched laugh that sent a pleasant shiver down Bella's spine.

"You will find that people will do most anything if they believe that they are in great danger should they fail," the Dark Lord said with a sneer. "A sentiment that young … Draco, was it, will have for his mother and father. He _will_ get that list."

"Of course, my Lord," Bella said. "Do you wish me to inform Draco of his task by owl? I believe he only has a few days remaining at Hogwarts."

"Yes," the Dark Lord replied simply. "And tell your sister, the one that isn't married to a Mudblood, that I will require her house to hold meetings henceforth." Bella snarled, not at the Dark Lord, but at the thought of Andromeda. "Now that Lucius is in Azkaban, where he shall remain until I see fit for him to return, I do believe that Malfoy Manor will be a good place for me to hold meetings. It may even suffice for a headquarters, of sorts."

"I will, my Lord," Bella replied, wondering what Cissy will say to that. There was no answer that her sister could give other than her assent. "Do I have your leave?"

"One last thing, Bella," the Dark Lord said quickly and Bella sat back into the chair. "I have a second plan involving Lucius' son.

"Dumbledore has been a thorn in my side for too long," the Dark Lord said, his voice suddenly filling with anger and contempt. "He needs to be taken out of the picture. But while he remains at that school, there is nothing I can do about it. But with the Malfoy boy on the inside, he could get a chance to kill Dumbledore. That is the second thing he will do. He will kill Albus Dumbledore."

"My Lord," Bella said, her voice wavering slightly. She felt admiration as well as a feeling of foreboding. "Draco has only a few days left of school. He will never get the chance to kill Dumbledore in that time." There was a pause.

"You are correct," the Dark Lord said darkly. "And, at least for the moment, the list of Mudbloods is of more importance. Fine. Dumbledore shall die when the Malfoy boy returns to the school. You are to tell no one of this discussion, Bellatrix. It would not do well to have the old fool to learn of our plot to kill him."

"I will not," Bella said quickly. "Do I have your leave, my Lord?"

"Yes," he said. "I think it may be best if you do not inform your sister of our plans for her son yet. She does not have the Mark, so she may do something foolish. Send an owl to your nephew and then go to your sister."

"Of course, my Lord," Bella replied before gingerly getting to her feet and moving as fast as she could to the door. She moved through the house, seeing only Pettigrew who, now that she was upright, was cowering against a wall. She smirked at him which made him cower even more. She finally got to the edge of the wards and then Apparated away.

No one was able to Apparate into Malfoy Manor. Whenever someone needed to get inside, they needed to Apparate just outside the gates. Bella heard a rustling sound but paid it no attention as she was aware of her brother-in-law's ridiculous obsession with peacocks. Bella raised her left arm and then was able to walk through the gate to Malfoy Manor as if it had been made of smoke.

It appeared that there were wards on the gate that told anyone in the house that someone was coming as Cissy opened the door just as Bella reached out to open it herself. Cissy actually gasped.

"Bella," she said, her voice high as she ushered her sister into the house. "What happened to you?"

"I received no punishment that I did not deserve, Cissy," Bella replied. "I require a Quotes Quill and an owl, if you do not mind. I don't think my nerves have settled enough for me to write a letter myself."

"A letter to whom, may I ask?" Cissy asked as she entered a room close to the entrance. Malfoy Manor was somewhat less dark than Bella remembered, though everything seemed less dark after spending so many years in Azkaban.

"The Dark Lord requires a favour from someone," Bella responded, easily skipping over the fact that that someone was Draco. "He has asked me to contact them for him."

"I see," Cissy responded as she gave the quill to Bella along with a piece of parchment and an envelope. "Is it confidential? Something he will not want me to hear?"

"Yes," Bella said simply. "I am sorry Cissy, but he wants no one to hear of this."

"I understand," Cissy said with a small smile. "The room is soundproof. I will go and make us some tea. Do you remember your way around?" Bella nodded and Cissy took this as her cue to leave.

Bella composed her letter, put it in an envelope and sealed it with some wax in which she put the Black family crest. If Cissy had taught the boy anything, it would be to always take notice when the Black family crest is used. Bella noticed the dark owl on the windowsill and gave it the letter.

"This is to go to Draco," she said quietly. "Make sure when he gets it that he doesn't open it in anyone else's presence."

Bella wondered vaguely if there was a chance that the Ministry or the school might intercept the owl, but concluded that both would have more important things on their mind than looking at a teenager's letters.

Bella lingered only a moment in the room, looking at the rather impressive array of books. More than Bella would have expected in so small a room. Bella shook her head and exited the room. She found Cissy sitting at the dining table with two cups of tea. This reunion had been a long time coming and a small part of her wished that she didn't have to tell her sister of the plans which the Dark Lord was ordering her to put into motion.


	5. Minerva I

_**Disclaimer:**_ _I make no claim to the rights of any characters that are owned by J.K. Rowling or Warner Bros., and make no money from this venture. This work is purely for entertainment purposes._

* * *

—CHAPTER FOUR—

 _Minerva_

Minerva McGonagall was sick of St Mungo's. She had only been there since Thursday morning, but it was Saturday and she was just sick of it all. She just wanted to leave. Nearly every Healer that had treated her she knew because she had taught them when they went to Hogwarts. As such, most of them were either frightened of her or too intimidated to see her as anything other than Professor McGonagall. The food was terrible, she had nothing to do and, frankly, she missed Hogwarts.

But that wasn't the whole problem. The big issue that kept going through Minerva's head was that Neville Longbottom was dead. Clumsy, self-conscious, loveable Neville Longbottom. Dead. One of her lions. Dead. No matter what happened around her, she always thought about Neville Longbottom.

Minerva blamed herself. She knew that it wasn't actually her fault that she wasn't at Hogwarts. _That_ fault laid with Dolores Umbridge, that cow of a woman. But she still felt terrible guilt despite it making no logical sense to feel that way. If she had been at Hogwarts on Thursday, the Fifth Years would surely have come to her with the problem. She was a member of the Order, and she was the Head of Gryffindor, the House which most of them were in. She would have gone to Grimmauld Place and seen Sirius there. Neville would never have been at the Department of Mysteries. He would be at Hogwarts right now enjoying finally being free of examinations.

And there she was at St Mungo's doing absolutely nothing while her lions back at Hogwarts were all grieving without her. Who would they turn to? There are no other Gryffindor Professors to take her place. Albus would be too busy and Hagrid wouldn't be back yet. She needed to be there for them. Despite her stern demeanour, the Gryffindor students were her life. She didn't have a family of her own, so those students were like a family to her. And one of them was dead. And the rest of them knew. And she could do nothing about it.

"I will leave when I want to, Sanderson," Minerva said curtly as she pointed her wand at her bag which floated into the air behind her. "I cannot stay here. The … funeral is on Tuesday morning. I need to be at the school to help organise it."

"Doesn't that usually fall to the family?" Jeffrey Sanderson asked pointedly. Minerva glared at him.

"He has a Grandmother and some Great Uncles and Aunts. That is not enough," Minerva said. "I will help Augusta organise it."

"Would that not be the Headmaster's job, Professor?" Sanderson asked, still pointedly. He had been in Hufflepuff and graduated about fifteen years prior. He still could not see Minerva as anyone but a Hogwarts Professor. _At least he does not fear me_ , Minerva thought.

"Albus is busy dealing with the fallout," Minerva said, now walking out of the ward, her wand in one hand and a cane in the other. "Or have you not heard? You-Know-Who is back." Sanderson stopped for a split second but continued to follow her.

"Professor, you aren't cleared to go," he said. Minerva smiled at this. He was now grasping at straws.

"I feel perfectly healthy," Minerva said, only slightly lying. "My place is at Hogwarts. If something happens to me, Poppy Pomfrey is there. She is more experienced than most of you here at St Mungo's will ever be. If it had been anything less than four stunners, I would still be there right now and Neville would not have …" She trailed off as she walked, her cane making a slight dull thump on the floor of the corridor.

"You know what? You're right," Sanderson said finally.

"Of course I am," Minerva replied. "Now, where is the Floo out of here. I need to get to Hogwarts soon. I am told that Augusta Longbottom is meeting with Albus this very afternoon."

"It's just up here," Sanderson replied, pointing to a door off the corridor. Minerva walked as briskly as she could, given the circumstances. The only reason she had the cane was because she occasionally felt light-headed, though she had not felt any at all since the previous day.

Sanderson showed her to the fireplace where he promptly threw in some Floo powder, turning the flames green. She grasped her bag and walked into the flames, her wand in her pocket and Floo powder in hand. She shouted, "Hogwarts Deputy Headmistress's Office!" and spun for a moment until she stepped out into her empty office. She suddenly felt a sense of calm wash over her.

She placed her bag down on the floor near her desk telling herself that she would put everything away later. On her desk was a letter, which she checked with various spells before opening. She was, perhaps, being overly cautious. Only someone within Hogwarts who has access to her office would be able to leave the note as neatly as they had. There was no one at Hogwarts who would harm her, surely. She opened it and looked at the slanted writing.

 _Minerva,_

 _If my suspicions are correct, you will be reading this late on Saturday morning. I know that you are not the type to stay cooped up in a hospital for too long. You are too much like myself. We are too Gryffindor for our own good sometimes._

 _I have owled Madam Augusta Longbottom and requested her presence at the school at midday today. She has accepted my invitation and has informed me that she wishes to have words with me as well. I have informed Augusta that she will have to arrive through your fireplace as mine is not working at the moment. I suspect Dolores had something to do with that._

Minerva stopped and gripped the letter tighter as she read the name. That woman sickened her beyond anything she had ever felt in her many years.

 _When Augusta arrives, I would like you to escort her to my office. If I am not there, I will still be meeting with Amelia Bones. The password today is Cedar._

 _Albus_

Upon reading the letter once more, Minerva crumpled it up and threw it in the fire. She could take no chances with the password to the Headmaster's Office on there. Minerva looked at her wristwatch and saw that it was just past ten o'clock. She decided that she would look in on Gryffindor tower before Augusta arrived. She left her office as quickly as she could.

When she got to the painting of the Fat Lady, she didn't have to say anything, as she was a teacher, for it to swing open. The Gryffindor Common Room, she could sense before even walking through, was very solemn. She climbed into the portrait hole and walked in. She was right. She could see students of all years, though not all students were present. She saw a crying First Year girl being comforted by a Fourth Year girl and the Sixth Year male prefect. There was a small group of Second Year students grouped together, all whispering about something, frightened looks on their faces. The Seventh Year students were all scattered among the younger students, talking to and comforting them.

Despite everything that was going on, Minerva felt a rush of pride. Even with her absence, the students of Gryffindor House had rallied together in a time of great need. If it weren't so solemn, it would be a very uplifting moment for her.

She finally saw Harry, the only student present when Neville had died. The others that had accompanied them to the Ministry were all recovering from various problems in an adjoining room. By all accounts that she had heard, Neville had dived on Harry trying to get them both out of the way of the Killing Curse, but he had been hit.

Harry had the same look on his face that Minerva had seen all year. Ever since the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament, he had not been the same. Most students, Minerva had noticed, went through an angsty phase around that age, but no one _deserved_ to go through it more than Harry did. This year alone was worse for him than for most of the other students combined. She had only ever felt that this teenage angst was completely justifiable in one other case since she started teaching.

Harry was sitting with Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley and, to Minerva's surprise, Colin Creevey who looked like he didn't know where to stand in that group. It was a Second Year boy, Jimmy Peakes, who noticed Professor McGonagall first.

"Professor McGonagall!" he shouted, and the room quietened. Minerva scanned the room and everyone was now looking at her.

"I know that you are all extremely worried after recent events," Minerva said, making up a speech on the spot. "If any of you need any help _at all_ , I am telling you right now to come to my office. No problem is too small. I am sorry, but I have to meet someone soon. I do, however, need to speak to Harry Potter." She looked at the James Potter lookalike with Lily Evans' eyes and he looked back, nodding almost imperceptibly. He said something that Minerva could not hear over the sounds of sudden talking in the room. It appeared that her appearance had comforted some of the students somewhat. Harry walked over to her as she turned to exit the Common Room through the portrait. When they were outside, Harry spoke.

"Are you okay Professor McGonagall?" he asked. Minerva was taken aback.

"I'm fine, Harry," she said slowly. "Are … you okay?" Harry shrugged sadly.

"Not really," he said, breaking her heart. "I miss him. It's weird, but when I wake up from the nightmares, I always look to his empty bed. I expect him to be there. And he isn't." Her heart broke even more. She couldn't fathom why this fifteen year old boy had to go through so much.

"We can move the bed if you like," Minerva offered quietly. Harry shook his head.

"No," he said defiantly, though not loudly. "None of us want that. That's Neville's bed. It will always be his bed. We don't … we don't want …"

And, all of a sudden, Minerva saw something inside Harry break, like a dam wall cracking apart and crumbling. Perhaps it was just the recent stress. Perhaps it was everything that had ever happened to him. Perhaps it was just losing Neville. But he started to cry. Not just let a few tears flow, but actually cry.

Minerva could not blame him. In fact, she didn't know how it hadn't happened earlier. She just reached out and pulled him towards her. She hugged him tightly for a minute as he got himself under control. In that time, she shed a few tears herself, something she did not do often.

"I'm sorry, Professor," he said quietly.

"Don't be sorry, Harry," Minerva said quietly. Harry nodded. "That is nothing to be sorry about."

"It's just … this isn't the same as with Cedric," Harry said, as if he needed to explain himself. Minerva thought about interrupting, but decided against it. "Neville was my friend. And he didn't even have to be there. He shouldn't have jumped on me."

"Harry," Minerva said quietly, absently attempting to smooth Harry's hair out. "Neville … Neville chose to go with you. And from what I heard, he saved your life."

"I know," Harry said, equally as quietly as her. "But he didn't deserve to die."

"No one ever does," Minerva said reflectively.

"She does," Harry said, suddenly very fiercely. Minerva knew immediately who he was talking about.

"Perhaps," Minerva said quietly. "But that is not for you to decide. Besides, you will have to get in line behind many people, myself included, to have a go at Bellatrix Lestrange." Harry laughed softly. Minerva even smiled softly and looked at her wrist watch. It was half-past ten, so Minerva thought she should get back to her office. She didn't want to miss Augusta.

"Thank you Professor," Harry said quietly. "This really did help a lot."

"It really is no problem," Minerva replied. "If you do need to speak to anyone, do come and see me."

"I will," Harry promised, though Minerva knew that she would not see him in her office. Not for this.

"I have to go, but I do have a question for you," Minerva said just as Harry turned to leave. "Why was Mr Creevey sitting with you?" Harry smiled a slightly sad smile.

"There are some things," Harry said quietly, though the words seem to reverberate through Minerva with a strange sadness, "that you can't share without ending up liking each other. As it turns out, the fallout of mutual friend dying is one of those things."

Harry turned, said the password and walked back into the Common Room. Minerva watched him go, wishing she could do more to help him.

She walked off to her office more slowly than she had done when she walked to the Gryffindor Common Room. She looked over her shoulder and saw no one exiting the portrait and, so, continued on, only once being impeded by Peeves who looked much more downcast than usual, likely due to the lack of Dolores Umbridge around the castle to torment. He only half-heartedly threw a water bomb at her and it didn't fall even close to her.

"Oh, just go and wreck my classroom," she said and the poltergeist immediately perked up and moved faster than Minerva had seen him. She shouted after him. "But don't take anything!" He whirled even while still moving forward and nodded happily. Minerva could just clean up the mess later.

When she got back to her office, she entered her chambers and put away the things she had had brought to her at St Mungo's and tided up a bit by hand. As easier as it may have been to do things by magic, she was of the belief that a witch or wizard should occasionally not use magic. It keeps them grounded. In a way, she wondered if this tiny little thing is what made generations of people into Pure-blood fanatics. She had once told this theory to Albus and he had smiled and said, "It is very possible, Minerva. Something as small as the dismissal of Muggle techniques could very well have made all the difference."

Minerva looked at her watch again some time later and saw that it was very close to eleven thirty. If she knew anything about Augusta Longbottom it was that she would not want to be even a second late for her meeting with Albus, though she could not say the same for Albus himself. Augusta would arrive early. Soon, if Minerva was correct.

Minerva was, indeed, correct. Not long after she entered back into her office and sat down to tend to some paperwork, the fireplace flared up and Augusta walked right through, looking as prim and proper as Minerva had come to expect, though she had expected that her stern expression might betray even the smallest bit of grief.

"Minerva," Augusta said in a rather imperious tone, eying the cane that Minerva was now using to get to her feet. "I would not keep Albus waiting, so I will go."

"I will accompany you," Minerva said quickly, slightly taken aback.

"No need," Augusta said, walking to the door. "I know the way. My mind is not so frail that I don't remember how to get to the Office of the Headmaster."

"You don't have the password," Minerva pointed out, feeling strangely put off by Augusta's attitude. Indeed the old witch was usually very stern and reasonably unapproachable, but this was not like her at all. There was none of her usual formality. While the Longbottoms did not subscribe to the same ideas about blood in the magical world, Augusta insisted on keeping some of the old customs the same. Minerva suspected this may have been part of what made Neville such a fearful child.

"Tell me what the password is then," Augusta said curtly. Minerva shook her head.

"I do not think that wise," she said. As quick as lightning, Augusta had her wand out and pointed at Minerva.

"Tell me the password," she said fiercely. Minerva let go of her cane and drew her own wand, shocked.

"Fine. 'Cedar'," Minerva said quickly. "It's 'cedar'."

"Is this a joke?" August asked, her voice rising in pitch.

"What do you mean?" Minerva asked. Augusta shot a yellow spell wordlessly at her, which Minerva blocked, just as silently. "Augusta!"

"You mock me!" she shrieked and shot the same yellow curse again, which Minerva again blocked.

"I have done no such thing," Minerva replied, her wand slashing in front of her as a blue hex shot at her. This one bounced off her shield and shattered a mirror on her wall.

"You get my grandson killed and then you mock my family?!" she shrieked again, firing more curses than Minerva had expected her to be able to. Augusta Longbottom was a capable witch, but this was something that Minerva would never have expected of the woman. It was all she could do to block the spells which occasionally rebounded and hit the wall. One hit her desk, causing papers to fly everywhere. Even if Minerva had wanted to go on the attack, there were so many spells being fired at her that she wouldn't have been able to get one in.

The fireplace in Minerva's office suddenly flared up again and Albus strode out. As he saw what was going on, he raised his wand, but Augusta was faster, this time shouting, " _Expelliarmus_!" causing Albus' wand to fly into the air. Minerva took this chance.

" _Expelliarmus_!" she cried, her wand pointed at Augusta who promptly lost her own wand. She looked dumbfounded as Minerva summoned Augusta's wand to her.

"Give it back, Minerva," Augusta said threateningly. Minerva looked to Albus who was giving her an enquiring look. Minerva looked back to Augusta.

"You need to calm down," she said calmly.

" _Calm down_?" Augusta shrieked. "My grandson is dead, and you two are directly responsible! Albus, if it weren't for you leaving, Neville would never have gone on that fool's quest to get himself killed. And you, Minerva, you were stupid to intervene when those aurors went for Hagrid! He's part giant! He would have survived _ten_ stunners and got away! Do you even use that mind of yours? And then you mock me with that _password_."

"What do you mean?" Minerva asked inquiringly and received a glare from the old witch.

"Cedar!" she said angrily. "Cedar was the wood of Frank's wand! The same wand I gave to Neville!"

Suddenly some things made more sense. Neville had never been so good at spellcasting, and a handed down wand would have that effect. Also, Neville had always been self-conscious about magic, and that could have been because of the inherent comparison between him and Frank. Few people could ever hope to live up to Frank Longbottom.

"You get my grandson killed and then you mock him!" she yelled, mostly towards Albus.

"Augusta," Albus said calmly as he picked up his wand. "We understand that you are grieving, but we are not to blame."

"No, you're right," Augusta spat. "It's Harry Potter's fault. The boy thinks he's going to save the damn world just because some Dark Lord gave him a scar when he was a toddler. I've seen flobberworms with more sense!"

"Augusta," Albus said quietly. "It was Neville's _choice_ to go to the Ministry."

"The choice was made because of the damn fool ideas that Potter boy put in his head," she said angrily, grasping for her non-existent wand. Minerva wondered what the old witch would have done if she had a wand in her possession at that moment.

"It appears that we will be unable to sway you," Albus said sadly. Minerva wondered why he wasn't pressing the issue.

"That's right, you won't!" Augusta announced. "Now why did you want to see me? I have a funeral to plan, you know."

"Actually, that is what I wanted to speak to you about," Albus said quietly. "Would you like to sit?"

"No," Augusta replied quickly and sternly, suddenly eying her wand in Minerva's hand.

"Fine," Albus said, his tone still quiet, with no anger in it. "I would like to offer the assistance of Hogwarts for the funeral."

"None will be necessary," Augusta said tonelessly. "I am organising it. I need no help from this school."

"Well then, I would ask you if some of Neville's friends could attend," Albus said and Augusta looked at him.

"I have no issue with that," she said evenly. "Except Potter. I don't want him anywhere near the funeral."

"What?" Minerva said without thinking. "Harry needs this. I saw him just now and I've never seen him worse!"

"I said _no_ , Minerva," Augusta said flatly. "I will not have the boy who got my son killed at his funeral."

"You know as well as I do that Neville would want for Harry to be there," Minerva said angrily.

"You know nothing of the sort!" Augusta said, angry once again. "I know Neville better than anyone! I raised him!"

"That's right, you did," Minerva said, her own anger suddenly rising. "And when he got to Hogwarts, he was a fearful child who, despite owning a wand that did slightly work for him, still believed that he was a Squib! Did you know that he came to me the first night he was here and told me that he didn't belong here? He told me that he had no reason to be here. That his family believed him a Squib! He said that he was worthless!"

Augusta was now struggling for words as Minerva felt tears flow down her cheeks.

"It took me half an hour to calm him down!" Minerva said, almost yelling. "Never have I seen a boy who lacked so much self-confidence. So, yes Augusta, you raised him. But it was Harry Potter who made him into the man that he could have become. It was not you or I that did that. It was Harry Potter. And he, right this very moment, is feeling immense guilt over what happened. And if he does not attend that funeral, you are condemning him to a lifetime of guilt.

"But, most importantly, Neville thought of Harry as his best friend. I know this. I saw it. Harry, who always had bigger problems, didn't really see Neville until this year. But Neville always thought of Harry as his best friend because he didn't have anyone else because his _family_ made him feel so worthless that he didn't think he even _deserved_ friends. Will you be so selfish as to deny the boy that Neville thought as his best friend the right to see him off? Are you truly that selfish?"

Augusta looked affronted and Minerva could not quite blame her. Minerva, who rarely cried, now could feel her cheeks wet with tears. In truth, she did not know what she was saying. She only knew that it was all true. Every word.

There was silence in the room and Augusta finally shut her mouth. The silence went on for a few seconds before she walked towards the fireplace, snatching her wand away from Minerva's hands as she went.

"Fine," she said, her voice cracking. "The boy can come. But don't expect me to act grateful to him. He still killed my grandson."

And with that, Augusta stepped into the flames and, shortly after, disappeared. Minerva fell into her chair, whether from emotional, physical or magical exhaustion she did not know. She leant her right elbow on her desk and rubbed her forehead. Albus was looking at her oddly over his glasses as he handed her the cane she had let fall to the floor.


	6. Amelia I

_**Disclaimer:**_ _I make no claim to the rights of any characters that are owned by J.K. Rowling or Warner Bros., and make no money from this venture. This work is purely for entertainment purposes._

* * *

—CHAPTER FIVE—

 _Amelia_

Amelia Bones was seated opposite the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, a rather cold look on her lined, square-jawed face. She was also wearing her monocle during the conversation with which she was becoming thoroughly frustrated.

"What do you really expect me to do, Cornelius?" Amelia asked Fudge, not showing any expression. "You know as well as I do how the last war went, and the DMLE could hardly do a thing. You-Know-Who was too powerful and too skilful at evading us at every turn. Nothing will have changed now that you have seen fit to admit that he is, in fact, back."

Amelia felt that she had every right to get that jab in at Fudge. The foolish man had cost them an entire year, and the life of a Hogwarts student for Merlin's sake, because he wanted to bury his head in the sand and pretend that You-Know-Who was dead. Amelia also knew that he hated himself for it more than anyone actually hated him.

Well, that may not actually be true if the entire wizarding populous was combined. Amelia wasn't even sure if there were any out there who liked Fudge even a little bit any more. The people who believed him at first would hate him for, in their eyes, lying to them. The people who didn't believe him at first would hate him for the same reasons she did. The Death Eaters would hate him for actually saying that their master had returned.

Amelia had certainly never believed him. Albus Dumbledore, for all his faults, would not lie about something of this immensity. And for Fudge to ever say that Dumbledore only wanted control of the Ministry was ridiculous. Dumbledore had turned down the job of Minister so many times it would have to be some kind of record. If he had so much as said that he wanted the job, at least before Fudge's blatant slander, the people would have stopped at nothing to get him there. But he never wanted that. He only wanted to warn the people and to not give You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters a head start.

And Harry Potter … well, Amelia could not exactly blame Fudge for being disbelieving of Potter, at least at first. The boy comes out of a maze bearing a Portkeyed cup, a deep gash on his arm and the dead Diggory boy and then he starts blurting out stuff about You-Know-Who. Even Amelia had been sceptical of that at first. That was until the absolute farce of a hearing the previous year. Amelia, unlike most of those who had attended, made sure to go in with a very open mind about the issue. And when she saw Potter, her monocle told her that he was not being deceptive about anything he said.

Amelia's monocle had come in handy from time to time. It was not strictly needed as her eyesight was perfectly fine. She had it made when she got the position of the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It was not as good as Veritaserum, but it showed her when people were hiding something. When they were, that was usually when Veritaserum was administered. Her monocle had saved the Department a lot of money on the expensive potion, though no one knew this except for her. Most just believed that she had something of a Sixth Sense.

When her monocle showed no signs of deception from Potter during the discussion about the Dementors he had fought off, Amelia had no choice but to assume that someone else had control over the Dementors, even though they still guarded Azkaban. That was when she realised that Potter had not been lying about You-Know-Who.

"Just what are you implying, Madam Bones?" Fudge asked indignantly. Amelia snorted.

"I'm implying that if you had just told the world that You-Know-Who was back when Dumbledore and Potter said he was, Neville Longbottom would not have been killed," Amelia said as she saw Fudge's face turn a tinge of red.

"If you felt this way –" he started, but Amelia cut him off.

"If I had said that I believed Dumbledore and Potter, you would have assumed that I was 'in league' with them and that I was 'Dumbledore's pawn', and you would have had me fired," Amelia said coldly. "And, since I have a niece to take care of, I could not risk the chance that you would fire me. And, _Minister_ , you should know that I am not the only person within the Ministry to have seen this."

"I - I," Fudge spluttered, more than likely trying to find some words to say that would help him save face. After a few moments of spluttering, he slumped back into his regal chair. "You're right. You are absolutely right. I've been a fool. I would have fired you or anybody else that spoke out in defense of Dumbledore. I suspect my days as Minister for Magic will be over very soon. And, perhaps, rightly so."

Amelia did not speak. Silently she could not have been happier at this news. Fudge had been a passable peace-time Minister. There had been better, but there had certainly been worse. She just wasn't sure who would replace him, especially now that Lucius Malfoy was in a now Dementor-less Azkaban. Her mind went to Rufus Scrimgeour, but she thought he might be too intense for the job. There were others, but none that she could see being a war-time Minister. Amelia was about to open her mouth to speak again when there was a knock at the Minister's door.

"Enter," Fudge said wearily and the door opened revealing Percy Weasley.

"Madam Bones," Percy Weasley said imperiously. "Albus Dumbledore wishes to have an audience with you. He is waiting in your office."

"How did he get in there? The Floo should have been sealed and the door thoroughly locked," Amelia said, a little surprised. "No, don't answer. I already know. He's Albus Dumbledore. He'll do whatever the hell he likes. Fine, tell the portrait of Edgar outside my office to go to his portrait inside and tell Dumbledore I'll be there in a moment."

Percy nodded his head curtly, shut the door and left. Amelia turned back to Fudge.

"Was there anything else, Cornelius?" she asked curtly.

"Only one thing," Fudge said.

"What is it?" Amelia asked sharply, causing Fudge to flinch slightly.

"The people mistrust me now," he said simply. "But they need to know what we're doing to bring down You-Know-Who. As Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I want you to stage a press-conference this afternoon."

"I will not tell the people our plans directly," Amelia said, thinking. "But I can tell them in vague terms. Death Eaters could be anywhere. But, Cornelius, I warn you that I am not a good person to draw up war tactics should we need them. You know as well as I do that Alastor Moody is best at that kind of thing. Better than Scrimgeour, even."

"Fine," Fudge said, massaging his temples. "Bring in Moody. Anything that gives us an edge."

"The press conference is all set up?" Amelia asked and Fudge nodded, his fingers not leaving his temples.

"This afternoon at five o'clock in the Atrium," he said. "I suspect that the ruined Atrium will show the populous that this is not to be taken lightly."

"Well, we agree on something finally, Minister," Amelia said with only a hint of a smile. "Is that all?" Fudge nodded again and Amelia left the office. She would have made her way to her office straight away, but there was no fireplace in the Minister's office. Safety precautions. Before Alastor Moody there had been one. It had been the end of two previous Ministers. Now the Minister had to leave his or her heavily warded office and go down a long hall, which is also heavily warded, just to get to a fireplace. Amelia actually rather liked that set-up.

It did not take her long to get to the fireplace at the end of the Hall and thengo through the fireplace to her office, where she would be the only person allowed through until she was actually in the office. That had also been Moody's doing. When she walked out of the fireplace, she performed a spell on herself which rid her of the ash that clung to her robes. When she was finished, she saw Dumbledore seated in the chair opposite her desk.

"Good morning Albus," Amelia said, not at all surprised to see Dumbledore seated there.

"And the same to you, Amelia," Dumbledore replied as Amelia sat at her desk. She suddenly realised that Albus looked older than usual. He did not sound much different, but there was certainly something there. She assumed that it had something to do with Neville Longbottom.

"I _am_ sorry to rush you, Albus," Amelia said sincerely, "but Fudge wants me to do a press conference this afternoon and I have to prepare. Actually, could you get in touch with Alastor for me? I want him as an advisor."

"Of course," Dumbledore replied immediately. "He was injured in the Department of Mysteries two nights ago, but he is now healthy thanks to Poppy. I will send him as soon as I leave."

"Thank you," Amelia replied. "Now what was it you needed to speak to me about."

"Two things," Dumbledore said and Amelia nodded quickly. "Firstly, I need to ask about protection at Neville Longbottom's funeral. I fear that it may be a prime spot for the Death Eaters to attack."

"I shall supply, say, six Aurors," Amelia said, noting that down on a piece of parchment. "Scrimgeour, Shacklebolt, Tonks, Dawlish, Savage and Proudfoot. Is that sufficient?"

"I believe so," Dumbledore said, inclining his head. "I do believe that Augusta will feel better if her son's funeral went by without incident. I do thank you."

"The Bones' and the Longbottom's have known each other many years," Amelia said simply as she finished writing Proudfoot's name on the parchment looking up. "We will always support one another. And the other thing?"

"We need to discuss Sirius Black," Dumbledore said and Amelia actually dropped the quill in her hand.

"Do you have information on his whereabouts?" she asked the older man quickly. He just smiled which irritated her more than she had expected.

"Sirius Black is innocent, Amelia," Dumbledore replied. Amelia was suddenly very sceptical, but realised that Dumbledore, as she had noticed before, would not lie about such things. He had not lied about He Who Must Not Be Named, and that was more important.

"I see," she said slowly. "May I ask what proof you have of this?"

"Physical proof?" he asked, a tinge of amusement in his tone that made Amelia slightly frustrated. "Oh, none at all. The physical proof is presumably being hidden by Lord Voldemort."

Amelia flinched only slightly and Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.

"Surely you of all people, Amelia," he said genially, "know that fearing his name is not going to achieve anything."

Amelia said nothing for a moment. She did not fear the name. She feared the man. She had gotten used to saying "You-Know-Who" or "He Who Must Not Be Named" over the years and not really associating it with anyone or anything, as most people at the Ministry did so. Any of the names made her frightened because the vast majority of her family had been utterly massacred by that man.

"I fear the man," Amelia said simply, "not any name."

"Ah …" Dumbledore said in realisation.

"And why is it that you say that You-Know-Who is hiding the proof?" Amelia asked, picking up her quill and dipping it in some black ink.

"Peter Pettigrew is alive," Dumbledore said simply and Amelia looked at Dumbledore with a straight face, though inside her brain was working in overdrive. "James and Lily switched Secret Keepers and told no one but Sirius and Peter so as to confuse the Death Eaters."

"Fine," Amelia said, understanding the rationale behind the Potters' decision. "But Black killed Pettigrew. And a dozen Muggles."

"He did not," Dumbledore said, the amusement now gone, though the man did not quite take on a serious tone. "Peter faked his death by, and this is just assumption on our part, exploding a Muggle gas tank, which we believe is what killed the onlookers, cutting off his finger so as to make it seem like Sirius had blown him up and transformed into his Animagus form. A rat." Amelia actually scoffed at this, though she could not, exactly, refute the idea.

"Pettigrew? An Animagus?" she asked with a laugh. "The boy barely got through Hogwarts."

"Very true," Dumbledore replied. "Though if you look at his Transfiguration score, you will find that he, along with James Potter and Sirius Black, all received the highest scores since Voldemort himself attended school. Sirius tells me that this is because of the animagus transformation which they used to help Remus Lupin through his werewolf transformations at school."

"Wait," Amelia said quickly. "James Potter and Black were animagi as well? Three animagi in one Hogwarts year? There are scarcely three per generation in Britain. Minerva is one of only two known animagi in Britain currently."

"Oh, yes," Dumbledore said, a twinkle in his eye. "It is astounding. Even more so when you learn that they achieved this in their Fourth Year."

"Fourth Year?!" Amelia suddenly exclaimed. She checked Dumbledore with her monocle and there was no deception. "Merlin. That's impressive."

"Indeed, though I suspect our conversation has gone awry," Dumbledore said, sobering Amelia somewhat. "I should tell you all that I know."

And tell her, he did. About Black's escape from Azkaban. His search for, not Harry Potter, but Peter Pettigrew who was Ronald Weasley's rat. How Pettigrew got away. Sirius in hiding. Pettigrew resurrecting You-Know-Who. By the end, Amelia was staring at the old, bearded wizard in disbelief, though she could see no flaws in the story. It all seemed to fit together. More so than the original story when Black was put in Azkaban.

"Well that's all well and good," Amelia said after a pause as Dumbledore finished the story. "But I can't do anything unless there is proof."

"If you would consent," Dumbledore said slowly. "I could bring Sirius here and you could question him under Veritaserum. Or I could get the memory from him."

"Memory charms can falsify Veritaserum and memories," Amelia said sharply. "We need Pettigrew. That is the only way. If we can get Pettigrew, that will prove that he is alive. And if he is alive, that also proves Black's story as there would be no reason for Pettigrew to stay hidden after You-Know-Who died and Black was in Azkaban. He would have been hailed a hero. Yes … we need Pettigrew."

"I suspect that may be too difficult, even for me," Dumbledore said sadly before his eyes widened only slightly. "What if I were to procure one of Peter's hairs? That would, surely, prove that he is alive." Amelia considered this. Though she could not see how Dumbledore could get a strand of Pettigrew's hair, she nodded.

"If you can do that," she said, "that should be enough. Although it would be better to get Pettigrew himself."

"I will do my best," Dumbledore said as he arose from his seat. "I shall leave you to your work. Alastor should be here within the hour. I hope to bring you something soon."

Dumbledore strode over to the fireplace, took a pinch of Floo powder from inside his robes, walked into the flames and disappeared, announcing his office as the destination. Amelia began to rub her temples.

As Dumbledore had said would happen, Alastor Moody appeared three quarters of an hour later through her Floo. When he came out of it he was swearing quite a bit.

"I hate those things," he growled, looking at Amelia, his wooden leg thumping as he walked over to the chair Dumbledore had occupied earlier and sat down quite hard. "Everything looks secure. What did I tell you when I said I was retiring?" Amelia was familiar with Alastor's "constant vigilance".

"You said, 'I've done my damn part for the world, just leave me be and let me spend retirement in Hawaii or somewhere less frustratingly annoying'," Amelia said, not imitating Alastor even in the slightest. Alastor nodded. "And what did I say in reply?" Amelia asked, a tone of resignation in her voice.

"'I think I can organise Hawaii'," Alastor said simply. "Now for the protective charms."

Alastor then performed a dozen completely unnecessary charms, three of which were locking charms on the door.

"It's not great," he growled, his blue eye whizzing around the room, "but I suppose it will do." Amelia had no idea what his idea of "great" was and wasn't sure she wanted to know.

For the next two hours, Amelia and Alastor went through a variety of plans on how to catch Death Eaters and, if possible, You-Know-Who himself. Amelia had only seen You-Know-Who once in the last war. This was when she had been an Auror. She had been an Auror for a few years before the end of the war and it was only after the war that she realised that she didn't really have the stomach to continue being an Auror. Instead, she moved on to work under Bartemius Crouch Sr. until he stepped down and she was appointed Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

It was actually when she saw You-Know-Who that she realised she wasn't cut out to be an Auror. She had watched him sever Alastor's leg off with a very powerful curse.

When they were finished, they organised her speech for the public. Alastor didn't much care for this, but Amelia talked him into helping by telling him that she didn't want to give even the slightest aspect of their plan away to the Death Eaters. He quickly agreed then and Amelia secretly felt a sense of pride that she had managed to out-vigilance Alastor Moody.

Soon after, Cornelius Fudge was in her office briefing her about the press conference. As it turned out, word had gotten around that it was happening and there were more people than expected. Amelia had simply nodded and just listened to Fudge's ramblings. He told her that he would not be accompanying her as he did not want to give the image that he was involved. Despite everything, that had made Amelia feel bad for Fudge.

When she had reached the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic, she was greeted by a _much_ larger crowd than she was expecting. She estimated about two hundred. Fudge had said that there would only be thirty journalists there. Her heart began to race. Shacklebolt and Dawlish flanked her on both sides ready to protect her if need be, not that she would ever need much help. Alastor walked behind them, his leg clunking on the floor.

When she got to the podium and looked out, the two people that stood out the most were Rita Skeeter, who wore rather colourful robes, and Xenophilius Lovegood who stuck out like a sore thumb among all the _proper_ journalists. Amelia chided herself, remembering the article in _The Quibbler_ not all that long ago about Harry Potter that Fudge had so despised.

"For those of you who do not know, my name is Amelia Bones and I am the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Amelia announced in a magically enhanced voice. Nearly all talk ceased. "Thank you all for coming here on a Sunday afternoon. I know this is an inconvenience for some of you. As all of you will undoubtedly know, there was an incident early on Friday morning in the Department of Mysteries and it has since been revealed that He Who Must Not Be Named has, in fact, returned. He is among us once more.

"As such, many of you will surely be wondering what the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is doing to catch these criminals," Amelia continued to the apparently rapt audience. "I have been consulting with ex-Auror Alastor Moody in order to discern what the best tactics are for this situation. While I will not say precisely what these tactics are, you can rest assured that we do have plans. Our primary goal is to keep Magical Britain as safe as we can.

"However, we cannot do everything," Amelia then said gravely. "You absolutely _cannot_ rely solely on us. Those of us who lived through the last period of He Who Must Not Be Named's attempt to gain power know that the Ministry can only do so much. As such, I am having my Aurors work alongside Alastor Moody in order to create a a large quantity of pamphlets to help you protect yourselves and your family.

"Take it from me," Amelia said, the words almost catching in her throat. "Almost my entire family were killed during the last war. I know the worst that can happen. Do not let that happen to you.

"Now, are there any questions?" Amelia asked. There were a few questions, mostly asking for more details on either the plans or what happened in the Department of Mysteries. It wasn't until Xenophilius Lovegood raised his hand, amplified his voice and asked something that changed the complexion of the whole conference.

"Madam Bones," he said in a slightly airy tone, "are you aware of just how many members of the public expect, and even go so far as to want, you to take over from Minister Fudge and become the new Minister for Magic?"

Amelia stood with her mouth open as Xenophilius finished speaking. There was a silence for a moment in which Amelia told herself that it was only Xenophilius Lovegood. Surely it was just one of his weird notions.

And then the crowd broke into applause. Amelia looked out at them in amazement. As the applause kept going she looked around her to see that Dawlish and Shacklebolt had joined in. She looked at Alastor Moody, the cynical, paranoid, scarred old Auror. He put his gnarled hands together just once.


	7. Harry II

_**Disclaimer:**_ _I make no claim to the rights of any characters that are owned by J.K. Rowling or Warner Bros., and make no money from this venture. This work is purely for entertainment purposes._

* * *

—CHAPTER SIX—

 _Harry_

As Harry walked back through the portrait hole, he struggled to remember the last time he had broken down like that. He could only think of a few times before he left for Hogwarts when he was very young and he had been locked in the cupboard for something insignificant which he didn't understand. Even if he could have remembered a specific time, he certainly had never broken down like that in front of anyone else. Not after everything he'd been through.

He had seen Lord Voldemort on the back of Quirrell's head. He had fought a Basilisk and almost died. He had had to let go of Sirius. He had seen Cedric Diggory murdered in front of him. He had endured torture at the hands of Umbridge. None of this made him break. But he did now.

Even with this realisation, he couldn't work out why it had been Professor McGonagall who he had broken down in front of. It could have been Hermione or Ron or Ginny or Luna, even Colin or Dumbledore and he would have seen the reason behind it. But not Professor McGonagall. Not the stern Head of Gryffindor House. But it had happened and, surprisingly, he felt better. Like some of the weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He still felt terrible, but it seemed more bearable. It was as though breaking down like he did actually made him stronger, and Harry didn't understand that in the slightest.

When he had told Hermione of his guilt over Neville's death while she was still in the Hospital Wing, she had been kinder than Harry thought she ought to be towards him.

"Neville knew what he was getting into," she had said quietly, her voice breaking slightly as she lay in her bed in the Hospital Wing. Everyone else had been released by this point. "He knew the risks. We all did."

Hermione had been weak at that point. She was still recovering from the purple hex that had hit her. Luckily Madam Pomfrey knew exactly how to fix her as always. Despite the fact that it was curable, Harry felt another pang of guilt knowing that Hermione had been hurt as well.

"Neville died," Harry had said quietly, "you almost died and Ron almost lost his sanity. And it was all because I couldn't see the difference between dreams and reality."

"Harry," Hermione had said both warily and wearily, her eyes now filling with tears. "You need to stop blaming yourself. You don't get to control our actions. We all went with you. It is unbelievably sad that Neville …" She hadn't needed to finish. She and Harry sat together in silence for a while, Harry holding her hand as she started to cry.

When Harry got back into the Common Room after talking with Professor McGonagall, many eyes were on him, but he did not pay them any heed, very aware that his eyes were likely quite red. He walked over to where Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Colin were sitting. He noticed that Colin sat away from the rest, though closer to him. Harry did hope that the others took to Colin in time.

It was still a little strange for Harry to actually like Colin instead of just accepting his presence and not really paying any attention to him. Dumbledore had been the one to tell Harry that people weren't always what they seemed. The old man, who Harry only felt a small amount of lingering resentment towards, had shown him the similarities between Colin and Hermione. He had pointed out that Hermione likely would have had a tougher time than Colin had Harry and Ron not become her friends. Colin at least had hus little brother.

It was when Dumbledore had shown him the similarities between the two of them that he remembered that Hermione, too, had known who he was on the Hogwarts Express. The only difference was that Colin treated him like a celebrity, though he realised that Colin was Muggle-born and couldn't see him as the Boy Who Lived. After that, it had all hit Harry like a brick and he felt terrible. Because of his preconceived ideas about his own celebrity, he had condemned Colin Creevey to four years of friendlessness, his only companion his little brother.

Hermione had understood this when he explained it to her. Ginny looked like she had already worked it out. Ron didn't believe it, though seemed to accept Harry's choice of a new friend even though he was a bit cold in his acceptance. Actually, Ron had seemed a bit strange ever since returning from the Ministry. Harry put it down to the residual effects of the brains that had attacked him. Madam Pomfrey did say that the effects might last longer than expected.

"What did Professor McGonagall want?" Hermione asked as Harry sat down. Harry knew from her gaze that she had noticed that he had been crying.

"She just wanted to see how I was doing," Harry said promptly. Hermione nodded.

"The Stunners must have really hurt her," Colin piped up. "Did you see the cane?"

"Course we did," Ron said, almost snapping. "Bit hard not to notice, don't you think?" Harry saw Colin flinch slightly.

"She seems alright to me," Harry said, trying to avoid looking at Ron with a stern gaze.

" _Are_ you okay Harry?" Hermione asked knowingly. Ron didn't look up, though Colin looked at him enquiringly as well.

"I'm as okay as I can be," Harry replied, trying very hard to keep the sadness out of his voice. Judging by the look on Hermione's face, he didn't quite succeed.

The following day passed by rather slowly. Harry found himself wishing that he had something to occupy himself with. There were no classes at all, and Harry was shocked to realise he was even thinking he might actually enjoy a Potions class with Snape. He still didn't have his broom which was even more frustrating than before given what had happened. He just wanted to get into the air and fly around for a while to take his mind off of everything. He spent most of the day in the company of Hermione, Ron, Luna and Colin. Ginny was off with her friends from her own Year, though it seemed to Harry that she wasn't all that interested with them.

Luna had been a welcome addition while they spent a lot of the day looking out on the Black Lake, watching other students playing around with the Giant Squid. Luna had actually managed to brighten their day slightly. Colin, Harry had noticed, was getting the most out of it. But he knew that Colin wouldn't be grieving as much as the rest of them. He hadn't known Neville all that well.

Also, during the day Harry had borrowed a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ and saw that the headline spoke of Amelia Bones and what her plans were now that the Ministry acknowledged that Voldemort was back. The headline had switched from _Bones Plots With Moody Against Dark Lord_ to _Bones the Next Minister for Magic?_ and Harry had found that he would actually like Madam Bones to become the Minister. No one, surely, could be worse than Fudge. And he did have a small amount of affection for the witch as she had been at his hearing and sided with him.

That night, Harry had the nightmare that he had had every night since the events at the Department of Mysteries. It was never the actual events of that night, however. He and Neville were both duelling together against Bellatrix Lestrange and, at the very least, keeping up with her. Then there was the familiar high pitched laugh making Harry lose focus and look behind him. Neville then jumped on him and Bellatrix fled. When he pushed Neville off, the boy's eyes were blank. Then the high pitched laugh came out of nowhere and there was a flash of green and Harry had awoken.

Harry silently deduced that the dreams were not sent by Voldemort. Dumbledore had said that he did not think that Voldemort would send him any more images on purpose due to the feeling of love that Harry had exhibited when Voldemort had tried to inhabit his body. Harry knew that these dreams were just that. Dreams. But that did not stop him from sitting bolt upright and looking to the bed where Neville would usually be. His heart automatically sank when he saw that the bed was empty.

The following day was the day of Neville's funeral.

McGonagall had informed the Gryffindors that, if anyone wanted to, they could attend. At first, Harry had been reluctant. But Hermione talked him into it. So Harry joined Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Luna, Colin (without Dennis), Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, Lavender Brown, Parvati and Padma Patil, Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell, Lee Jordan, Susan Bones, Hannah Abbott, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Anthony Goldstein, Ernie Macmillan, Zacharias Smith, Terry Boot and Cho Chang as they all left for the funeral.

When they all got to Professor McGonagall's office, where they were to take the Floo Network to their destination, Harry noticed a rather large and shaggy, black dog outside the door. Harry hung back with Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Luna and Colin while the others entered the room. Harry glanced at McGonagall who nodded. Harry followed Padfoot to a nearby, unoccupied room. When he got to the door, Harry moved to let Padfoot in, but he stopped and bared his teeth at the others. Hermione, Ron and Ginny knew what that would mean, Luna was serene as always and Colin looked frightened.

"It's alright, Colin," Harry said, almost with a laugh in his voice. "He just wants me to himself."

"What?" Colin blurted out. Ron glanced at him.

"I'll tell you later," Harry promised. "I'll meet you there, alright?"

"Okay Harry," Hermione said before anyone else could say anything. Padfoot walked through the classroom door. "But don't be too long."

"Do you really think McGonagall will let me be?" Harry asked her, truly smiling for the first time in what seemed months, though it had been just a few days. The others left, so he entered the room where he found that Padfoot had not yet transformed into Sirius. Harry closed the door and when he turned back around Sirius was standing in front of him. He wrapped Harry in a hug and Harry hugged him back. Sirius let go of him and held his shoulders, looking into his green eyes.

"Are you okay?" Sirius asked sharply, though not unkindly. Harry smiled.

"I'm doing alright," he said. "I'm just glad it wasn't you. I thought you were a goner." Sirius barked his laughter.

"Dear cousin Bella needs to try harder than that to kill me," he said with a grin that Harry could not help but return.

"But that curse," Harry suddenly said. "What was it?"

"Would you believe," Sirius began, amusement in his voice, "that Bellatrix seemed to not want to kill me. It was just a Stunner. Evidently she wanted me to just fall through the Veil."

"Dumbledore told me what would have happened," Harry said gravely and Sirius nodded.

"Dumbledore told you a great deal from what he told me," Sirius said. "He told you about the Prophecy?"

 _For neither can live while the other survives_ , Harry thought absently and nodded.

"Well then, you know more than I," Sirius said. "Dumbledore told us only that there was a Prophecy and that Voldemort only knew one part of it. No more." His face told Harry what he was thinking.

"I'm sorry, Sirius," Harry said quietly. "He told me that I should only tell Hermione and Ron. He told me that the more people know, the easier it will come to Voldemort's attention. And … I actually agree with him." Sirius looked downcast but nodded.

"I understand, Harry," Sirius said, though he looked back into Harry's eyes. "But you don't need to bear this alone."

"I wish I could tell you Sirius," Harry said softly. "But I really can't. I'm sorry."

"No," Sirius said quickly, patting Harry on the cheek. "Don't be sorry. I understand. I do. James and Lily kept it from me as well. I didn't blame them then, so I have no right to blame you now."

"Thank you, Sirius," Harry said, feeling something lift from him.

"Now, on to other things," Sirius said, with a smile. "Who was the small boy with you there? I don't believe you've mentioned him before."

Harry and Sirius talked for a little while until the door creaked open and Sirius, with reflexes that actually surprised Harry, turned back into Padfoot once again. McGonagall walked through and Sirius changed quickly back.

"We need to go," she said, not really addressing either of them, more the empty room. Sirius turned to Harry.

"Will you be alright?" he asked and Harry nodded. "I'm sorry that I can't be there for you, but Dumbledore is worried about my safety even more now. He's working on it, though. We'll talk more once you get to Grimmauld Place after your stay at the Dursleys'. Okay?"

"Alright," Harry said quickly. Sirius hugged him for a moment and then changed into Padfoot once again. Harry walked out of the door where McGonagall was standing in the corridor. She was clad in her most formal black robes and did not wear a hat. Her hair was actually let down and shined slightly. She looked at least ten years younger.

As they entered her office, she told him what he had to say when he got into the fireplace. Harry had made sure that he had the exact phrasing before going through. It was still a very strange experience for him, travelling by Floo, but he managed to get off at the right point and not fall on his face, so that was something at least. When he got out, he found Hermione and Colin waiting for him.

"Where are the others?" Harry asked as McGonagall strode through behind him. They were the only people currently in a rather small hut that resembled Hagrid's hut somewhat. When McGonagall came through, she cast a spell on each of them, ridding them of the ash, as Hermione spoke.

"Mr and Mrs Weasley are here for the funeral," she said and Harry nodded. "So is Luna's dad. He was here when Luna came through. It's easy to see where Luna gets her … well, everything."

"Yes," McGonagall said as she cast the spell on herself. "Luna Lovegood does very much resemble a smaller, female version of her father when he was her age. Xenophilius was always a bit strange."

"Xenophilius?" Colin asked with a laugh. McGonagall even managed a weak smile.

"Even by wizarding standards, that name is … unique," she said. "I imagine it was Luna's mother who chose Luna's name which is vastly more acceptable. Pandora was always more sensible than Xenophilius. Though, not by much."

As they left the hut, they came out on a rather nice, green hillside. On the top of the hill, Harry saw a lot of what looked like marble buildings. On second glance, Harry noticed that they were, in fact, tombs. His stomach churned. Colin, apparently oblivious, turned to Harry.

"Harry," he said warily. "That dog?"

"Not now, Mr Creevey," McGonagall said sharply. "Harry can tell you all about what's going on with that dog when we are in a more secure location." Harry saw that Colin's face was showing a large amount of shock at that response. He looked at Harry.

"I will," Harry said and Colin nodded.

Harry looked up and saw that there were a lot of white, wooden chairs atop the hill where it was flat. Nearly everyone there were standing around talking to each other. For the most part they were all wearing black. Harry could see the flaming red hair that meant the Weasleys were, in fact, there. Harry could make out Mrs Weasley, Bill, Fred, George, Ron and Ginny. Mr Weasley was probably working and Charlie, evidently, could not make it. Percy's absence was no surprise.

Next to them, Luna stood with a man that could only be her father. Mr Lovegood was one of the most eccentric-looking wizards Harry had ever seen, even from afar. The man had shoulder-length white hair which, Harry could see as they got closer, was the texture of candyfloss, he wore a white cap whose tassel dangled in front of his nose and robes of, not black, but white. He and Luna had, apparently, decided to go against what everyone else was doing. Harry felt sure that there would be some crazy reason for it.

As they drew closer, Luna saw them and started pulling her father towards them with a smile on her face.

"Daddy!" she cried. Harry thought she sounded very much like a little child. "Daddy come over here!"

"Yes, darling, I'm coming," Mr Lovegood said just as serenely as Luna normally sounded. As the man came close, Harry noticed that he was slightly cross-eyed. There was also a silver chain around his neck, with a symbol of what appeared to be a triangular eye on it.

"Daddy!" Luna said again pointing at each of the three teenagers in turn, saying, "This is Harry Potter and Hermione Granger and Colin Creevey. They're really nice to me." Mr Lovegood's eyes swept across the three of them, a new smile on his face. His eyes, crossed, lingered on Harry's scar only a moment.

"It is a pleasure to meet the people that Luna speaks so highly of," he said, perhaps thinking he sounded formal, though he did not in the slightest. "And good afternoon, Professor McGonagall."

"Xenophilius," she said curtly and turned to Harry, Hermione and Colin. "I need to sort out the other students. You will be seated with us when you are finished talking to Mr Lovegood." Mr Lovegood stared for only a moment as McGonagall turned and left before turning back to the teenagers.

"You are Luna's friends?" he asked simply. Hermione began to say something, but Luna piped up.

"Daddy, they're just nice to me," she said. "They aren't my friends."

"Yes we are," Harry said without really thinking. Hermione nodded reluctantly.

"Of course we are," Colin put in. Luna looked at them, seeming to be on the verge of tears. Mr Lovegood looked rather pleased.

"It is good to see Luna has some friends," he said. He began to continue, but was cut off by a voice.

"Xenophilius," Augusta Longbottom said with a reproachful tone in her voice as she approached them. "What _are_ you wearing?" Mrs Longbottom was wearing robes of the deepest black and wore a matching hat with no bird of any sort perched on it. She did have the red handbag, which made Harry's stomach somersaulted as he remembered Neville facing the boggart.

"We do not follow the belief that black should be worn at funerals," Mr Lovegood said serenely. "Funerals are a celebration of a spirit passing on. Black is so solemn. A spirit moving on would, I'm sure, prefer happier colours." Mrs Longbottom scoffed.

"Fine," she snapped. "It's nearly about to start, so you should get to your seat. Please see to it that you don't blend in with the chairs too much." Xenophilius nodded and took Luna's hand in his. Harry, Hermione and Colin turned to leave as well, but Mrs Longbottom spoke.

"Not you," she said sharply. Harry instinctively knew that she spoke to him.

"You two go on," he said to Hermione and Colin who gave him slightly worried looks. He just turned around to Mrs Longbottom.

"Yes, Mrs Longbottom?" Harry asked politely. When he looked into the older witch's eyes, he was shocked to see them cold.

"You are lucky you're even here, Harry Potter," she said coldly and Harry felt like he had been run through with a sword.

"Excuse me?" he asked, his voice cracking.

"You heard me, boy," she said coldly. "You got my grandson killed. You are only here because Minerva convinced me to allow you to be here. But you are not welcome. Oh, no. You got my grandson killed. You are no better than Bellatrix Lestrange."

And Mrs Longbottom turned on her heel and left.

Harry stood, rooted to the spot. He felt as if he had been punched repeatedly in the gut for hours.


	8. Draco I

_**Disclaimer:**_ _I make no claim to the rights of any characters that are owned by J.K. Rowling or Warner Bros., and make no money from this venture. This work is purely for entertainment purposes._

* * *

—CHAPTER SEVEN—

 _Draco_

 _Dearest Nephew,_

 _I write this letter to you with joyous news. You have been chosen to carry out a task for Him. He asked directly for you. This is an honour above all honours. He would not give such a task to just anyone. This is a task that you should feel a great sense of pride in fulfilling._

 _He has asked that you acquire the list of next year's First Year students. He would not ask this of you if he thought it beyond your powers. When you find the list, He requires that you to copy the names and addresses of each of the Mudbloods. You will then send the list directly to me._

 _You will complete this before the end of the school year, Draco. I will remind you that your father was caught and is now in prison._ He _is not happy. Not at all. If you fail, bad things will happen to you and, most likely, your mother. So you should do your absolute best to locate this list._

 _Love,_

 _Auntie Bella_

Draco Malfoy re-read the letter for what seemed the hundredth time, though it didn't really make him think anything different. It was all fairly clear. Draco had to find that list or the Dark Lord would kill him and, more than likely, his mother. Or worse, he would torture them until they wished they were dead.

Draco would never admit it aloud to anyone, but he was frightened. He had known his whole life what he was meant to be. He had known _who_ he was meant to be. But that didn't help the thought that the Dark Lord would be actually prepared to torture him if he did something wrong and failed in his task.

Father had told him years before what the Dark Lord had been capable of. Draco knew what the man would do, but despite his fathers "reassurances", Draco had never truly believed that the Dark Lord would actually return. He always thought his allegiance would be to someone else. Or that, perhaps, he would be the Dark Lord to whom other people paid allegiance. But now Draco was feeling extremely forced. A part of him didn't want to enter the Dark Lord's service. But he knew that he had no choice in the matter. If he declined, the Dark Lord would probably kill him, his mother and his father, no matter how loyal his father had been in the past.

Draco read the letter again. It was clear that his aunt did not write the letter herself. Draco could tell that it wasn't her writing, although she had only sent him one other letter some weeks beforehand. Her usual handwriting was very unrefined. Not at all like how she would have been taught by her family.

"Draco?" Pansy Parkinson asked in almost a whisper. She was seated next to him on a couch in the Slytherin Common Room. Draco folded the letter carefully and put it in his robes. He had long since put a spell on the parchment so that only he, or someone he gave it to, could read it. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Draco lied. "Just a letter from Mother. She's coping well considering what happened to Father."

"That's so unfair," Pansy said, suddenly indignant. Draco almost rolled his eyes. He wasn't exactly sure what Pansy was to him, but he knew what she thought he was to her. Draco didn't even really like Pansy. He tolerated her because her family, Father had said, was a neutral family, but perhaps the easiest to be swayed to the Dark Lord's cause.

If Draco had his way, he would hang around Daphne Greengrass. He actually found that he liked her. He might have even gone as far as to say that he had feelings for her. But it could never happen. He remembered the summer holidays that the Dark Lord had returned, he casually asked his father about the Greengrass family. His father had said that they were, as the Parkinsons were, a neutral family. However, the Greengrass family would likely, if forced, side with Dumbledore.

"Mhm," Draco murmured to Pansy absently. He looked at Blaise Zabini, who was seated nearby. The dark skinned boy was giving him a strange look. Draco never knew where he stood with Blaise.

"Now that your father is in Azkaban," Blaise said suddenly and not very quietly, "will you be taking his place?"

"Of course he will," Pansy said, before looking slightly confused. "Take what place?"

"I believe it will be expected of me," Draco told Blaise whose face remained as impassive as usual. Pansy looked confused, but Draco continued. "I suspect I would have had to do so even if father had not been sent there."

"And you think you're ready for it?" Blaise asked, his face still unwavering. Sometimes he infuriated Draco. "You have only just done your O.W.L.'s."

"I'm capable of more than you know," Draco replied coolly, though inside he didn't believe it. He agreed with Blaise.

"Oh, I don't doubt that," Blaise said. Draco thought he detected the slightest hint of sarcasm. "You are Draco Malfoy. Heir to a Most Noble House. Of course you are capable of great things. I don't know why I even questioned you." Draco wanted to curse him, but knew that he couldn't. Besides, he wasn't even that sure if anyone else was smart enough to detect the sarcasm. Perhaps Daphne would have been able to, but she wasn't in the Common Room.

"And you would do well to remember that," Draco said, sneering. He was well aware of what the Zabini family tree was like. No Muggles, perhaps, but more than one mudblood had polluted that tree. Zabini himself was a Half-blood. His maternal grandmother was a Muggle. "Members of the Ancient and most Noble Houses are very powerful."

"No doubt," Blaise replied, the tiniest of smiles playing at his lips as he shifted the parchment in his lap. "Although one does become curious about the Granger girl beating you in nearly every class. Though surely that's only because she's a bookworm. There is no way that she could be beating you by magical talent."

Draco felt anger surge up inside him at the accusation. He and Blaise both knew the game they were playing, even if Pansy, or indeed most other Slytherin students, didn't.

"That's right, Blaise," Draco said, not allowing his anger into his voice. "The Mudblood reads more books, and thus knows the theory better than I do. She would be no match against me in a proper duel."

Not for the first time, Draco wondered just whose side Blaise Zabini was on.

He had discovered later that Longbottom's funeral was going to be the following day. Draco became completely assured that he would have to get the list then. He was sure that McGonagall and Dumbledore would be out of the school. In truth, they were the biggest obstacles in his way. But he still had no idea where to start. The night before Longbottom's funeral, Draco decided to ask the only person who he thought he could trust with the information.

Upon opening the door to Severus Snape's office, Draco found the Head of Slytherin House at his desk, writing notes in a book. Professor Snape raised his eyebrows only slightly as he closed the book and waved his wand at the door which promptly locked. A chair was drawn up for Draco, who sat down opposite the Potions master.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Draco?" the black haired man asked. Draco looked up from the book that Snape had been writing in before and saw the man's eyes boring into him.

"I've been given a task," Draco said. Snape suddenly silenced him with a look.

"Foolish boy!" he said angrily. "Has Lucius taught you nothing? Hogwarts has ears!" Draco flinched slightly before Snape cast eight spells, none of which Draco actually knew. "Now you can speak freely."

"The Dark Lord has asked me to get something from the castle for him," Draco said quickly. If Snape was surprised, he did not show it.

"I see," he said, his eyes not leaving Draco. "And what is it that the Dark Lord requires you to retrieve?"

"The list of Mudblood first years for next year," Draco said with a smirk. He thought he saw a flicker on Snape's face, but in less than a second it was gone.

"How did the Dark Lord contact you for such a task?" Snape asked smoothly. Draco reached into his robes and drew out the letter and the envelope it came it. After reversing the spell he had cast on it so only he could read it, he handed the letter to Snape who read it through. "Are you entirely sure that this came from Bellatrix Lestrange? This does not appear to be her writing."

Draco held up the letter which had the now slightly torn Black Family seal on it. Snape nodded and handed back the letter.

"In that case, you should do as directed," he said. "Why would you involve me? This is _your_ task after all." Draco swallowed.

"I'm not sure how to go about doing it," he said quietly. "And if I don't get it done … well, you read the letter."

"Indeed," Snape replied in a slight drawl, his voice as silky as ever. "Unfortunately, I cannot be of any great help. At least none that you will find helpful."

"Do you know where the list is kept?" Draco asked, his voice actually sounding pleading despite what his brain wanted him to sound like.

"It is kept in McGonagall's office," Snape said smoothly. "Though I daresay it would be … unwise to venture into her office to retrieve it. I have never had the privilege of seeing the list myself, so I do not know what enchantments McGonagall may have placed on or around it. The only two people who have accessed it in all my years as a Professor have been Dumbledore and McGonagall. Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress."

Draco's heart sank.

"So there is no way for me to get at it?" Draco asked, his voice now blatantly pleading. He wasn't even attempting to hide it. Snape's face did not change. "Look at you! You don't care what happens to me or my mother and father. You only care about yourself! That's why you still teach here. You want a plan to fall back on!"

"I am here at the behest of the Dark Lord," Snape said sternly, an edge in his voice that Draco had only ever heard when he was addressing Potter. "I have done more for the Dark Lord than you can ever hope to achieve." Draco suddenly felt ashamed.

"I apologise," Draco said formally. It was how he'd been taught to apologise. Snape nodded.

"An honest mistake, I'm sure," Snape said, the edge no longer in his voice. "I can see that you are under a lot of stress. I will speak to the Dark Lord about the issue in the hope that he will not punish you for being unsuccessful in your hunt for the student list. However, I do think it would be prudent if you still attempted to get it for yourself. If the Dark Lord does not heed my warning, it would be best that you return having at least attempted to fulfil his wishes."

Draco relieved and, yet, anxious at the same time following that response. He wasn't entirely sure how much pull Snape had with the Dark Lord or whether it would be enough to get the plans changed. He knew that Snape was right, though. He needed to still try and get his hands on it.

"Thank you, Professor," Draco said sincerely. Snape inclined his head only slightly in recognition. Draco knew his Head of House well enough by now to understand that that particular gesture meant that he was dismissed. When he got to the door, he heard Snape's voice once again.

"Do be careful, Draco," he said silkily. "Do not underestimate the strength of the protective spells that will, undoubtedly, be surrounding the list. It may not only be McGonagall and Dumbledore protecting it." Without turning, Draco nodded and exited the room, a bad feeling in his gut. When he got back to the Common Room, Draco stayed by himself, only allowing Crabbe and Goyle to be near because he knew they would be lost if they didn't. He came up with a plan.

After a restless night's sleep, Draco went to wait in the hallway outside of McGonagall's office. He found a spot that hid himself from view, but still allowed him to see the entrance to her office. After a while the large congregation of students showed up. They were all getting ready to go to Longbottom's funeral.

Draco saw Potter and a few others along with a new Mudblood that Draco couldn't remember the name of. Potter went into a room with some dog. Draco realised with a start that the dog was the same one that had been seen on Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Sirius Black. Draco idly wondered how much the Dark Lord would praise him if he managed to get a hold of Black.

He pushed the thought away, focusing on the task at hand as McGonagall exited the room with Potter and Black. They entered her office where Draco knew all of the other students had been Flooing out to the funeral. When they entered the room and shut the door, Draco waited for a few minutes. He didn't want to be caught by someone emerging, though he did think that the room would be empty.

He walked up to the door and tried to push it open. It wouldn't move. Draco smiled slightly, though it was certainly not a happy smile. He pulled out his wand.

" _Alohamora_ ," he said, pointing his wand at the door. Nothing happened. He tried two other unlocking charms that he knew and they didn't work either. He started to become concerned. He had underestimated McGonagall. He walked away from the door and pointed his wand at it.

" _Bombarda_!" he cried. The spell dissipated on the door. Draco gritted his teeth, not lowering his wand. " _Bombarda Maxima_!" he cried. There was an explosion this time, but the door remained standing. Draco wanted to hit something and cry. But he didn't. He had to get into the room. And then he realised the answer.

Draco went into the room next to McGonagalls office, the one that Potter and Black had used. The door to this room was unlocked, luckily. This was an unused classroom and not McGonagall's classroom. Draco pointed his wand at the shared wall between the classroom and McGonagall's office.

" _Bombarda Maxima_!" he cried again. This time the stone wall was destroyed, causing debris to fly everywhere. When it cleared, Draco saw that his spell had certainly worked and that there was a hole in the wall large enough for him to get through. He went through quickly, hoping that no one had heard the explosion. He didn't think they would, though. McGonagall's office wasn't near any place where there would be a lot of students.

As soon as he went through the hole, Draco said, " _Accio list of students_ ", but nothing happened. He saw many cupboards and desks with drawers. He sighed and moved over, looking in each of them. After a few sets of drawers, some of which had depths the size of some houses, and one cupboard, Draco felt something when he touched the door of a cupboard. It was a small shock, which caused him to pull back his hand. He tried again and still found the shock. He left that cupboard alone and quickly looked through every other cupboard and drawer in her office. He found nothing.

"That has to be the one," Draco muttered to himself, looking at the cupboard that looked no different to the others. He tried to open it again and found the shock there. He kicked it and a shock went up his leg. He walked away from it.

" _Bombarda Maxima_!" he shouted and the spell dissipated, just like the weaker version had done on McGonagall's door. Draco wanted to scream. He tried several different ways of opening the cupboard door and found that each way was as futile as the rest. Draco swore under his breath. He sat down in McGonagall's chair and breathed quickly for a few minutes before returning to his senses and left the office through the hole he had created.

After making sure the corridor was empty, Draco walked in the direction of the Slytherin Common room, dejected. He didn't like the idea of having to trust in Severus Snape. It was something Draco just did not feel right doing. He would rather put his trust in only himself in this, but he knew that the only thing standing between him and the Dark Lord now was Snape. This made him feel sick.

He was almost at the entrance to the Common Room when he was struck by a sudden idea. The Room of Requirement, Umbridge had called it. He remembered discussing what had happened to the Dumbledore's Army students with Umbridge. He had asked her where they were training. She had told him, in her sickly sweet voice that even Draco could not stand, that the Edgecomb girl had told her that it was a secret room on the Seventh Floor in the Left Corridor opposite a tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy.

Draco turned around and set off quickly to where this room should be. He knew that what Edgecomb had said was true. She was under the effects of Veritaserum at the time and, therefore, could not lie. She had even told them how to make it appear.

After a while, Draco was at the tapestry, looking opposite it. There was nothing but wall there. He remembered what Umbridge had said and he started pacing in front of it, his eyes screwed up hard. _I need the list of next year's students_ , he recited in his mind as he paced. His heart was racing as he did so.

He opened his eyes and looked at the wall. There was a door.

Draco was shaking as he opened the door and walked inside. The room was small and only contained a table with a long piece of parchment on it. Draco closed the door behind him and ran to the table where he snatched up the parchment, reading over it. The title was in green ink.

 _First Year Students Starting In 1996_

Draco smiled so broadly he felt that his face would split. He sighed deeply and he felt a weight lift off his shoulders. He carried the piece of parchment to the door, opened it and began to exit. When he did so, however, Draco found that the parchment disappeared from his hands. He looked back over his shoulder at the table in frustration.

He then realised what he would have to do. He took out a piece of parchment and a quill that was spelled to never run out of ink. He looked at the list and found that the Mudbloods were all marked with a *. Out of the 250 or so students, there were fifty-two Mudbloods. More than Draco had been expecting. Draco wrote the first name and home address down and made sure that he could leave with the parchment he brought with him. He found that he could, so he proceeded to write out the name and home address of each of the Mudbloods. This took quite some time, but when he was finished he let the ink dry and then left the room. As he left, he noticed the door disappear behind him.

The list was on its way to Bellatrix Lestrange within the hour. That night, Draco slept more soundly than he had since his father had been imprisoned. He didn't have a single nightmare.


	9. Hermione I

_**Disclaimer:**_ _I make no claim to the rights of any characters that are owned by J.K. Rowling or Warner Bros., and make no money from this venture. This work is purely for entertainment purposes._

* * *

—CHAPTER EIGHT—

 _Hermione_

Hermione Granger was to be seated with Harry and Colin, Professor McGonagall had informed her. When she and Colin got to where they were supposed to sit, she turned around and looked at Harry, who they had left alone with Mrs Longbottom. She watched as Mrs Longbottom strode away, leaving Harry standing still as a statue, staring at where the older witch had been moments before, his mouth gaping. She didn't need to think twice as she walked towards him, ignoring the voice of Professor McGonagall behind her.

It didn't take her long to reach where Harry stood, still not moving. When she got close enough, she saw unshed tears in his eyes. She couldn't remember if she had ever seen Harry actually cry before, and it pained her beyond belief to see it happening right in front of her eyes. She touched his shoulder lightly and he seemed to jerk back into reality. He reached up a hand and wiped away the tears as if they were something to be ashamed of.

"Harry?" Hermione asked quietly, worried that she might say something wrong. "What happened?"

"Uh …" Harry murmured. It seemed to Hermione that he was deliberating over something in his mind. She heard someone walking up to join them, but she didn't turn around. When Harry spoke, it was in a voice like he was concealing something. "It was just something Mrs Longbottom said."

"What did she say?" Hermione inquired. It had to be something important or Harry wouldn't have been near crying. Harry turned to walk towards the white wooden chairs. When Hermione turned to follow, she saw Colin there.

"Nothing," Harry lied. Hermione had long since learned when he was lying. They had been friends for four and a half years after all.

"Harry," Hermione said slowly and cautiously. Harry stopped walking abruptly.

"She told me that I killed Neville," he said tonelessly. Hermione let out a strangled gasp and reached her hands up to her mouth.

"She didn't …" Colin said, shock on his face. Hermione would have said the same thing herself if she could have spoken at the time. Harry just nodded. Hermione grasped his arm.

"Harry, you didn't …" Hermione said, not knowing really what else to say. "It wasn't you. It was _Bellatrix_."

"I know," Harry said glumly. "But she had a point."

"Oh stop that," Hermione said sharply. Perhaps sharper than she had intended. She could feel tears in her eyes as she thought about Neville. "Mrs Longbottom is in pain. She didn't mean what she said. She couldn't possibly."

Harry looked at her strangely for a moment as though he wanted to say something, but didn't.

"Come on guys," Colin said, moving forward. "Everyone's taking their seats. I think it's about to start."

The three of them rushed to their seats. They were seated closer to the back while the Weasleys, including Ron and Ginny, and the Lovegoods sat a few rows in front of them. Hermione could see Dumbledore close to the front, seated with what looked to be Minister Fudge and someone with close-cropped grey hair. She didn't know that person, but she did see Susan Bones sitting with her, leading her to believe that the grey-haired person was, in fact, Amelia Bones.

Hermione was on the end of a row of seats, seated on the left-hand side of Harry who was sitting next to Colin. As soon as Hermione sat down, she felt a great sadness. It all suddenly become more than real. It had been real before, but this was something different. It was all happening. Everyone was there to say their final goodbyes. And that was just it. It was final.

Hermione had been to only one other funeral in her life. Her maternal grandmother had died when she was six. Looking back on it, she realised that she had started exhibiting her magical abilities at around that point. When she had attended her grandmother's funeral, she had not fully comprehended what had happened, so she had asked her father what was going on and he did the worst possible thing he could have done. He told her the truth.

Hermione had spent the whole rest of the funeral crying into her father's suit. In the car ride home she had fallen asleep and when her father woke her, she thought it had been a dream. And when she found out that it wasn't a dream, she cried some more.

It was a memory that she couldn't avoid, given the circumstances. She didn't even really notice what was happening around her. The tears were coming. She could feel them. And they only got worse when she remembered something she had managed to almost forget after all these years.

She remembered putting the body-bind curse on Neville the night they had gone to save the Philosopher's Stone.

That memory brought on a whole maelstrom of memories about Neville. They seemed to obscure her memory of the funeral as it went on. Everything was like a blur. For a while, Hermione tried to keep the tears from falling. For some odd reason, Cho Chang popped into her head while she did so, forcing Hermione to forcibly remove her.

She vaguely remembered seeing two men carrying what could only have been Neville's body. He was wrapped in red and gold velvet with what appeared to be two crests embroidered on it. From what she had read, she thought that one of the crests would be the crest of House Longbottom. The other, she could not make out. It was at about that moment when she felt Harry grab her hand.

Hermione looked at their hands clasped together, and then looked up at him. He was looking at the two older men carrying Neville's body, his brilliant green eyes shining with tears. She wondered why, exactly, he was crying. Was he, like she was, remembering long-forgotton memories of Neville? Or was it simply what Mrs Longbottom had said to him? She reflected on how Harry could be so easy to read one minute and so hard to the next. It was something that annoyed and intrigued her about him all the time.

The men placed Neville's body on a platform at the front. The platform was made of marble and behind it there were several objects that were also made of the same marble. Hermione realised that they were tombs and then it dawned on her that they were witnessing a funeral that only happens for the biggest families or for the most influention witches and wizards of the time. For the rest of the magical community, a funeral was not much different to a Muggle funeral. She did not know the specifics of what was going to happen, but she recognised it from something she had read a few years earlier.

A small man that Hermione did not take much notice of rose and stood in front of Neville's body. He started talking, but she did not take it in. Her tears were now falling more than she had ever remembered them having done, with the exception of her grandmother's funeral. It hurt. It hurt so much.

Harry squeezed her hand and Hermione squeezed back. It felt comforting. She put her head on Harry's shoulder. She looked past Harry for a moment and saw Colin. He was not crying, though he did look sombre. Perhaps even anguished. But he was not crying. She could not blame him. He had not known Neville all that well. She also saw other members of the DA sitting on the other side of Colin. Some were crying. Others weren't. She understood. But it still hurt. Then Hermione heard the only words of the man in front of where Neville's lifeless body lay that she would later remember.

"I believe Augusta, Neville's grandmother, has prepared something," the little man said, his voice silky smooth. Strangely, it was exactly the voice that Hermione had expected of someone in his position.

Mrs Longbottom stood up, walked to where the man stood and turned to the crowd. If she had been crying at any point, Hermione could not see it from where she sat. The older witch did certainly look pained and grief-stricken. But her face showed no trace of tears.

"Neville was a good child," Mrs Longbottom began, her voice magically amplified, her grief carrying across all those present. "He was given a bad start to life. His parents remain, to this day, at St Mungo's Hospital. They have no idea that their son is gone. And by the same hand that put them in that hospital.

"Neville died needlessly," Mrs Longbottom said, suddenly sounding very angry. "He died because of the follies and stupidity of many people, most of whom are present today. If those people had been smarter, or just stayed away from Neville, he would be alive today.

"Despite this, I am told that Neville died bravely," she said, the anger leaving almost as quick as it had come. Her eyes swept the crowd and landed on Harry, whose shoulder Hermione's head still rested upon. "He died saving a boy he called 'friend'. He died so that this fool of a friend of his could live. And this _friend_ sits among us today as if he has done no wrong. Caused no death. Broken no hearts.

"We are here today, to say goodbye to my grandson, Neville James Longbottom," Mrs Longbottom said. Her eyes were looking piercingly at Harry as she said this. If this was significant, Hermione missed it. After that, her eyes moved away. "May he rest in peace, alongside his ancestors."

With that, Mrs Longbottom and the other man walked a little away from where Neville lay. The two men who had carried Neville in, stood up. All four of them had their wands out now. They pointed their wands at the base of the platform on which Neville lay. As they raised their wands, a marble case began to encase Neville. Slowly. Until he was out of sight and all that was left was the marble tomb.

The three men and Mrs Longbottom lowered their wands and all but Mrs Longbottom put them away. Mrs Longbottom pointed her wand at a small plaque on the tomb. Hermione was too far away to see properly, but she could see words appear on that plaque. It was then that she realised she was no longer crying and that she hadn't been since Mrs Longbottom had begun to talk.

Mrs Longbottom had no right to speak that way about anyone, let alone Harry. Part of her was enraged at what the woman had said. It was not right at all. But her rational side kicked in and she thought about what she had obviously been through. Not only had she lost her son to insanity, but she had lost her grandson as well. It didn't excuse what she said, but it was at least an explanation that made Hermione feel slightly sorry for her.

The little man stood in front of the tomb once again.

"That concludes today's ceremony," he said smoothly. "Augusta would like me to inform you all that those of you that are not Hogwarts students are welcome at her home in half an hour. Thank you."

There were a few moments of silence before murmuring broke out and people began to stand up from their seats. Hermione finally raised her head from Harry's shoulder and saw that Harry was no longer crying, though he looked as sad has Hermione had ever seen him. It broke her heart.

"Harry –" she began, but was cut off.

"I know," he said quickly as they walked a little bit away from the chairs. "She's upset and angry. I didn't kill Neville."

"Harry," Hermione said softly, instinctively knowing what Harry was thinking, "you really didn't. She's wrong, Harry. You didn't get Neville killed."

"I know, Hermione," Harry growled under his breath. "You said that earlier."

"She's right, Harry," Colin said quietly, having just joined them,

"You weren't there!" Harry said angrily. Colin looked a little taken aback, but Hermione just favoured Harry with a sympathetic look.

"Neville was there because he wanted to be," she said quietly, Harry glared at her, but she said nothing. "Yes, he was there in a large part because of the DA. Yes, he was there because you inspired him. But that doesn't change the fact that it was his choice. He chose to be at the Ministry and he chose to fight alongside you. You know as well as I do that you would have done the same thing for him, wouldn't you?"

Harry was silent as Hermione felt the tears coming again, but forced herself to keep calm.

"Wouldn't you?" she repeated fiercely. Harry nodded.

"Yeah, I would have," he conceded.

"And if someone blamed Neville for what happened to you if you did that, would you think that right?" Hermione asked, finding it harder to stop the tears. "Would you want Neville to believe that?"

"Well, no, but –" Harry said but Hermione cut him off.

"No, there are no 'buts' here, Harry," she said quietly. "If Neville was in your position, you wouldn't want him to be beating himself up about it. So don't do it to yourself." Harry smiled weakly.

"Why do I ever not listen to you?" Harry asked with a small chuckle.

"Because you're a boy," Hermione said simply. Harry smiled a little more before turning to Colin.

"I'm sorry, I was out of line," he said quietly and Colin shook his head.

"It's okay," he said in his small, high-pitched voice. "I shouldn't have gotten involved. I was stupid."

"No you weren't," Harry said with a smile. "I probably need to listen to you more as well. You and Hermione make a great team." Hermione was slightly taken aback to hear Harry say that after what he had used to say about Colin. Before anyone could say anything else, Professor McGonagall showed up.

"We will be returning to Hogwarts soon," she told the three of them curtly, her eyes rather red and puffy. It was something that Hermione had, for some reason, not been expecting. She had always seen Professor McGonagall as unshakeable. Like nothing could ever faze her. But she was obviously hurt by what happened to Neville. "If you wish to say goodbye to anyone, you should probably do so now. In fact, do you mind telling Mr and Miss Weasley and Miss Lovegood that we are leaving soon? I have to speak with Professor Dumbledore."

"Of course, Professor McGonagall," Hermione said immediately, mostly on instinct. The older witch nodded and moved off towards another group of students. "Well I suppose, we'd better go and tell them, then."

"I'll … uh, I'll stay here," Colin murmured, his eyes looking towards the where the Weasleys were standing, talking to an older couple Hermione didn't know. She thought this might be the reason. While she couldn't very well say that she was close to Colin, she had to admit that Ron was much worse and had hardly warmed to him at all. She suspected that Ron was jealous.

"No, you can come with us," Hermione said reassuringly. Colin smiled weakly.

"No, come with us," Harry said, his voice a little more enthusiastic. "The Weasleys will be really happy to meet you." Colin still looked apprehensive as he glanced over at the sea of red hair, but he nodded.

As they approached, Mrs Weasley appeared to have seen them first and rushed over, hugging Harry tightly. Hermione couldn't hear what she was saying to him, but she was soon being hugged as well.

"Oh, dear, it's absolutely terrible what happened," she said, releasing her grip. "Are you alright?"

"I think I'll be okay," Hermione said, not quite lying.

"Of course you will, dear," Mrs Weasley said, a sad smile on her face. She remembered being told about Mrs Weasleys' brothers in the last war. For some reason that made her feel a little better. Mrs Weasley looked at Colin.

"And this must be Colin," she said, smiling at Colin who looked shy and even a little concerned. "Ginny's told us a bit about you."

"Has she?" Colin asked, a surprised look on his face.

"Of course I have," Ginny said quickly. Colin smiled. As Harry introduced Colin to Bill, Ron pulled Hermione aside.

"Why'd you bring him over?" he asked accusatorially.

"What does it matter?" Hermione asked quietly, her tone slightly reproachful, though it appeared to have been lost on Ron.

"Why does Harry like him all of a sudden?" Ron asked bitterly.

"I don't know," Hermione said. "But it really doesn't matter. Harry likes him and that's all that matters."

"But Harry hated him for years," Ron insisted. "Why now?"

"Why don't you ask Harry that?" Hermione asked, annoyed. "It's not like I know why."

"You don't think …" Ron paused for a minute. "You don't think it's a love potion, do you?" Hermione was actually shocked.

"Ronald!" she said loudly enough to attract attention. "Don't be so stupid! Of course not! What a ridiculous thing to say."

"It could be true," he insisted.

"Sounds like little Ronnie-kins has said something stupid," said one of the twins who seemed to pop up out of nowhere behind Ron.

"As usual," the other one who spoke from behind her. "What is it this time?"

"I reckon he probably called her something horrible, George," the twin standing behind Ron, who was evidently Fred, said, a wide grin on his face.

"Oh, more than likely," George said, stroking a non-existent beard. "Maybe he insulted her hair!"

Hermione glared at Ron who was looking defiantly at her.

"No," she said quickly. "It was none of that."

"If you say do," Fred said as George leant down and whispered to her, though he was loud enough that Hermione had no doubt that Ron could hear.

"We have ways of getting back at him for you if you want us to," he told her. She shook her head in such a way that her hair hit him. Fred laughed.

"You shoulda seen that one coming, Georgie," he said, laughing, as the twins walked off. Hermione looked again at Ron.

"You need to get Ginny and Luna," she said icily. "We're leaving soon. I'll find Professor McGonagall and let her know that we're ready. Say goodbye to your parents for me, will you?" Ron nodded stiffly and Hermione whirled around and found Professor McGonagall with Professor Dumbledore. She only just caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a Patronus leave them. When she reached them, they were talking.

"We knew he would do it," Dumbledore said quietly, though she heard him. "You will just have to take the students through the Hospital Wing fireplace. I shall let Poppy know."

"Albus, are you sure it was wise to let that happen?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Oh, I am very sure," he said with a knowing smile. His eyes flickered to Hermione. "Ah, Miss Granger. How are you?" Hermione was slightly taken aback. The Headmaster rarely talked to her.

"Well, I'm fine, sir," she said uncertainly.

"And how are you taking Neville's passing?" he asked kindly. Hermione felt a lump in her throat, but his kind toned lessened it somewhat.

"Well, it hurts," Hermione confided. "But I'll get through it."

"I think you will find that the pain will lessen, but never fade," Dumbledore said, his eyes seeming to look off into the distance as he spoke. "But, nevertheless, you were here, I suspect, to speak to Professor McGonagall. I have to go and speak to Barnabus Cuffe, so I will leave you two to speak alone." With that, he left. Hermione turned to Professor McGonagall.

"We should be ready to go soon," she said quickly and Professor McGonagall nodded.

"We will be returning to the school through the Hospital Wing," she said as they walked towards the large group of students. Hermione could see Harry, Ron, Luna, Ginny and Colin together.

"Professor," Hermione said tentatively, "what was Professor Dumbledore talking about? What happened at the school?"

"Nothing to worry about," Professor McGonagall assured her. "Just a small issue." Hermione could sense that the older witch was hiding something, but she knew that she wouldn't hide anything unless it was extremely necessary, so Hermione said no more on the topic.


	10. Luna I

_**Disclaimer:**_ _I make no claim to the rights of any characters that are owned by J.K. Rowling or Warner Bros., and make no money from this venture. This work is purely for entertainment purposes._

* * *

—CHAPTER NINE—

 _Luna_

Luna Lovegood travelled through the fireplace, as Professor McGonagall had told all of them, to the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts. Luna wasn't sure why they had to go there instead of Professor McGonagall's office, but she didn't worry too much about it. Her usually very active mind seemed almost silent. She had just witnessed the funeral of Neville Longbottom. While she hadn't known Neville all that well, she had considered him a friend and it hurt knowing that she would never see him again.

The last funeral that she had attended had been her mother's and she remembered that day as though it were yesterday. Her father was nearly inconsolable and she had felt, even in her nine year old mind, that she had to be strong for him. She sat through the whole funeral barely crying as her father sobbed quietly, watching his wife be farewelled from the waking world.

This time was different. It was almost as though Luna was experiencing a different type of funeral, even though it was similar. This time, she cried and her father was the strong one. It had been tough for Luna to get through Neville's funeral, but she did it because she had liked Neville and she didn't want to disrespect him in any way.

When she came out of the fireplace, she was greeted with the sight of Madam Pomfrey showing some of the others who had gone through just before her out. Luna wasn't entirely sure what she should do. She wanted to wait for Harry and the others to come through before she left, but she also didn't want to bother them.

She decided quickly to leave the Hospital Wing, so she said goodbye to Madam Pomfrey with a small smile, something which hadn't happened since the Department of Mysteries. Luna found some of the other students who had gone to the funeral, most of whom were members of Dumbledore's Army, lingering in the hall outside. Luna looked at them for a moment before turning and walking away. She wasn't sure where she wanted to go. A little part of her said that she wanted to go to the kitchens and see the House Elves, so Luna found a shortcut that would take her directly there.

Luna had explored a lot of the castle in her years as a student. Most of the time she found that she couldn't bear being in Ravenclaw Tower, so she took to exploring the castle to be away from it. As she was always on her own, she had found ways to go almost completely unnoticed. Even Peeves hadn't seen her in her wanderings for two years. She was always silent as she walked the Hogwarts castle, usually looking for nothing in particular.

Occasionally, she would stop and talk to some of the portraits. They were most informative and Luna found that a lot of what they told her actually helped her pass Professor Binns' History of Magic class, which she then used as time to nap. The portraits were always nice to her and she found them more interesting than most of her fellow Ravenclaw students.

Luna would sometimes run into some ghosts, most of whom would not even acknowledge her, though she always greeted them when she could. This was how she had come to talk to Helena Ravenclaw. Helena was a very private woman and did not say very much, but all the same Luna enjoyed her company and she thought that Helena enjoyed hers.

Luna soon arrived at the kitchens and tickled the pear to get the portrait to open. When it did, Luna was hit almost immediately by the smell of cooking food. It was clear that the House Elves were working very hard on dinner for that night. Luna smiled as she entered, seeing the Elves at work.

"Ooh!" one of the female House Elves squeaked, quickly walking up to her. "Hello Missy Loveygood."

"Hello," Luna said airily. She had never been able to memorise all the Elves' names so she didn't try to. She figured that it would be a nearly impossible task. They didn't mind anyway. "How are you this afternoon?"

"Serry is good Missy Loveygood," the House Elf said, a wide grin on her face. Luna knew that House Elves were not used to being treated so nicely by witches and wizards, so she tried her best to be nice to them. "Would Missy Loveygood like something to eat?"

"Oh, a nice scone would be lovely," Luna said with a smile. Serry nodded, her big ears flapping, before she turned and walked away. Within minutes, Serry returned with a scone in her hand. "Thank you very much."

"Is no problem, Missy Loveygood," Serry said, her voice squeaking even more in happiness. "You is always so kind to the House Elves, so we is nice to you." Luna took a bite out of her scone as she watched the others work. Vaguely she wondered if Neville had ever been to the kitchens. It was certainly a sight to see, all the House Elves working together for a common cause.

Feeling to be on the verge of tears, Luna pushed Neville out of her mind.

Luna talked to Serry for a little while longer, mostly about what was for dinner. When she announced that she was going to leave, Serry gave her two more scones, her face split in a grin.

"Missy Loveygood is always welcome here," the little House Elf said. "We is always having food for you."

"Thank you Serry," Luna said sincerely as she exited the portrait hole and made her way down the corridor. She didn't run into anyone she knew and tried to keep out of sight as she walked, eating her scones as she went. She found herself subconsciously heading for Ravenclaw Tower. While it was nowhere near night-time, Luna wanted to just go to her bed and sleep.

In fact, Luna had found herself wanting to sleep more often since the night at the Department of Mysteries. She always went to bed earlier and woke up at exactly the same time that she had done since she was eight. Her dreams were more frequent and filled with even more nonsense than usual. And she was remembering her dreams better. She wasn't sure what was going on or whether it was a good or bad thing.

When she only had a few corridors to go before reaching Ravenclaw Tower, she ran into someone. She had been off in her own world and didn't see where she was going.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly without looking up. She started to walk away, but felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Wait, Luna," Harry said, turning her around. Luna looked up into his green eyes.

"Oh, hello Harry," she said quickly. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you," Harry replied, a worried look on his face. Luna raised her eyebrows.

"Why would you do a thing like that?" she asked.

"Well, you weren't there when we came out of the fireplace," Harry replied. "We thought something had happened to you."

"Oh no, I went to the kitchens," Luna said with a smile. "The House Elves love me. They give me lots of scones."

"Why didn't you wait for us?" Harry asked. Luna frowned again.

"Why would I do that?" she asked, genuinely puzzled. Harry looked surprised.

"Because we're your friends," Harry said. Luna's heart leapt, but that feeling was overpowered by a sense of concern and wariness.

"You are?" she asked sceptically. One girl had told her that they were friends in First Year. But it was all a big joke and in the end Luna was left alone, friendless and a laughingstock. She hadn't had friends since. Harry laughed and Luna felt upset for a moment.

"Of course we are," he said, still chuckling. Luna looked into his eyes again. He didn't seem to be lying.

"Why?" she asked. Harry looked taken aback.

"Well, we like you, Luna," he said slowly.

"Do you?" she asked, her heart leaping again.

"Yeah," Harry said, with another chuckle. "We told your dad earlier that we're your friends." Luna remembered that. She didn't think they were telling the truth at the time.

"But that was Daddy," she said sceptically. "You were just being nice."

"That's because we're your friends," Harry said with a smile. Luna saw a momentary twinkle in his eyes. She felt herself swell up.

"I've never had friends before," Luna confessed as she smiled. "It feels nice."

There was a silence for a few moments before Harry spoke up.

"Well, we're all going to spend some time in the Room of Requirement," Harry told her. "Do you want to come with us?" Luna thought about it only for a moment.

"That might be fun," she said happily. She wiped her left hand on her robes to get rid of the crumbs of scone that were left there and took Harry's hand in hers, a big smile on her face. She was watching Harry's face and saw his eyes widen slightly and look at their clasped hands. Luna started walking and had to pull Harry along for only a minute before he caught up with her.

"This isn't the right way, Luna," Harry said quickly as they walked. Luna giggled.

"I know lots of shortcuts that will get us there," she said with a smile as they turned into a wall that she knew they could get through. "Are all of the others waiting?"

"Well, no," Harry said, looking back over his shoulder at the wall they had walked through. "They're out looking as well. We said we would meet up at the Room of Requirement soon if we couldn't find you. Hang on. I didn't know we could go through that wall."

"Oh, I know a lot of things about the castle," Luna said mysteriously, now walking a bit slower. They walked past a small group of Third Year boys who looked at their clasped hands and then at Harry, who was a little bit red. But he didn't stop holding her hand. That made Luna happy.

"Are you sure you know where you're going?" Harry asked as they ascended a flight of stairs.

"This is the way I always go to get to the Room of Requirement," Luna replied. They ascended another flight of stairs and walked down a corridor before Luna tugged Harry in the direction of another wall, which they walked through to reveal the seventh floor corridor. Harry smiled.

"Looks like you were right," he said with a small chuckle. "That was a lot quicker. You'll have to show me again one day."

"It's different from Gryffindor Tower," Luna told him as they walked towards the wall where the Room of Requirement would be. "But I know the way. I would be happy to show you how to get there."

"I expected you to say that the Nargles help you," Harry said, stopping in front of the wall.

"Oh no," Luna said with a smile. "Nargles have a terrible sense of direction. They would never be able to help."

"I see," Harry said. "Well, I'm just going to open up the Room." Luna nodded and Harry started pacing, muttering slightly under his breath.

A door materialised on the wall and Luna opened it to reveal a smaller room than usual, with a two nice couches. There wasn't much else in the room. Harry followed Luna into the room and sat on one of the couches as Luna sat next to him, one leg folded under the other as she faced him.

"How long will the others be?" she asked. Harry checked his watch, which Luna thought looked really nice and old.

"About fifteen minutes, I think," he said. "I found you faster than I expected and then we got here quickly, so we've got some time."

"That's nice," Luna replied with a smile. They talked for a while, mostly about school stuff, before Hermione came in through the door.

"Hello Hermione," Luna said as cheerfully as she could.

"Hi Luna," Hermione said with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Luna hoped that that was because of Neville and not because Hermione didn't like her. Luna saw that Hermione noticed how close Luna and Harry were sitting together, but said nothing. "How long have you been here?"

"About fifteen minutes," Luna replied. "Harry found me near Ravenclaw Tower. I had been eating scones." Hermione raised her eyebrows but said nothing. Soon, everyone had arrived. Ginny and Colin turned up together and Ronald was the last person to turn up, grumbling slightly.

They talked for a long time. Luna estimated that it was over two hours that they spent together. They covered a lot of topics, but mostly talked about Neville. She had found that she couldn't cry any more. She just enjoyed the banter and company.

It was the first time that she could remember feeling included in any kind of group. It was a strange sensation, really. She had never had friends before and certainly not as many as this. Although she did get a strange vibe from Ronald. Whenever he looked at her, it was as though he was angry at her about something that she wasn't aware of. She didn't think she had ever done anything to Ronald, but she couldn't be sure.

Everyone else was nice to her though. They even asked how she was. That question made Luna swell up inside and she found herself happier than she had ever been, despite the circumstances. Harry and Colin, who had sat next to her on the couch, were the nicest to her. She felt loved by someone other than her father for the first time in a very long time.

Occasionally, during some of the sadder conversations, Harry would hold her hand, though in such a way that the others wouldn't see. Luna didn't know if he was doing it for her or for himself. Either way, she didn't mind it at all.

Eventually, the others started to trickle out. Ronald was the first to leave, saying that he wanted to go to bed early because he hadn't slept well since the Department of Mysteries. Luna felt the same way, but didn't tell him so. He was still acting strange around her, and Luna wasn't sure how he would react. Ginny left not long after her brother, saying that she promised to write her mother a letter, even though she had seen her that day.

"I should probably go too," Colin suggested not long after Ginny left. Hermione agreed with him.

"I'll meet you two in the Common Room," Harry told them with a smile. "I thought I might walk with Luna back to Ravenclaw." Hermione and Colin both gave him a strange look, but nodded and all four of them left together.

"Bye bye," Luna said as the other two left in the opposite direction to where Harry and Luna were going to walk.

"You're going to have to show me the way again," Harry said with a smile. "I would look a bit daft running into a solid wall." Luna laughed and took his hand again. This time he seemed prepared for it, and their hands seemed to slide together more easily.

"Okay," she said, pulling him towards the right wall. Soon they were nearing the Ravenclaw Tower. The area around them was surprisingly empty. Luna stopped.

"I'll be okay from here," she said with a smile.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked. Luna looked into his green eyes. They were a little bit sad.

"Oh, yes," Luna said airily, her eyes not leaving his. "I'll be perfectly okay."

"Alright then," Harry said, his eyes now a little happier. "I guess I'll see you in the morning, then."

"Okay," Luna replied. And she would never know what made her do what she did next.

Luna got up on her tiptoes and brushed his lips with her own. Just for a moment. But when she got back down to her own height, she saw that Harry's eyes were bulging. For some reason, this made her get butterflies in her stomach. She gave his hand a squeeze and turned around towards the entrance to Ravenclaw Tower and actually skipped off. She looked over her shoulder for just a moment and saw Harry gaping after her.

When she entered the Ravenclaw Common Room, her happy feeling disappeared almost instantaneously as people began to come up to her and swarm her, asking so many questions. About the funeral. About the Department of Mysteries. About the rumour that had been going around the castle about her and Harry. About _The Quibbler_. One question about Nargles which she did actually want to answer but was cut off by another about the Department of Mysteries.

On the whole, Luna was feeling very overwhelmed. She started trying to push through everyone but found that it was extremely difficult and was pushed back into the spot she had been before.

"HEY!" a voice yelled over all of them. Everyone quietened and Luna saw Cho Chang's head pop up above everyone else's. Luna suspected that Cho was standing on a table. "Leave Luna alone! She obviously doesn't want to answer your questions, so leave her be!"

The small crowd of people murmured collectively as Cho's head disappeared. Luna saw her push her way through the group and then grab Luna's arm.

"Move," Cho snapped angrily. Luna noticed that Padma Patil, Anthony Goldstein and Terry Boot had surrounded her as Cho pulled her out of the group. When the group was gone, Cho let go. "Are you alright?"

"I'm okay," Luna said quietly.

"Totally out of line, they were," Terry said, anger lacing his words. Luna felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't let them do that to you," Padma said to her kindly. "If something like that happens again, we'll try and help."

"Why?" Luna asked, her eyes shifting to Cho who, at one point, had teased Luna.

"We're DA," Cho responded. "We will stick together."

"Oh," Luna responded, not knowing what else to say. "That's nice. Thank you."

"No problem," Anthony said with a broad smile. Luna smiled back.

"I'm sorry," Luna told all of them, "but I am really very tired. I'm going to go to bed." After that, Luna found her way to her dorm room, closed the curtains around her bed and turned up the quieting charm around her bed quite high so she wouldn't be disturbed. It only took her a few minutes to fall asleep. When she did, she had a very strange dream.

She was looking at what was clearly the ruins of a house. The dark mark was hanging high in the blue sky. In the ruined house stood a pretty woman in a dazzling blue dress. She was looking around the ruins with a quizzical look on her face, as though the ruined house confused her.

There was a flash of green and the anguished scream of a child before the scene changed.

Luna looked at a cliff from afar. Though far away, she could see the same woman in the blue dress examining something on the cliff face.

This time there was no flash, but the pained screams of a woman as the scene changed again, morphing in a swirl of colour and screams.

This time it was a forest. The woman in the blue dress was there once again, looking on the ground for something, her beautiful face anxious. The ground beneath her feet changed from grass to ice, as if they were moving to a frozen lake. She glided across it, still looking for something, lines creasing her face.

There was a flash of blue and the grunting of a man as the scene changed again.

The lady in blue stood in the Headmaster's office. She looked inquisitively at a ruined book, a sad look on her face. She picked up the funeral notice of Neville Longbottom, an anguished look etched on her face.

A flash of green.

Hogwarts was burning. The lady in blue stood watching from the shore of the Great Lake.

When Luna awoke, she felt some of the memories fade from her mind. Some stayed the same. She did not know what to make of it.

She felt tears on her face.


	11. Colin II

_**Disclaimer:**_ _I make no claim to the rights of any characters that are owned by J.K. Rowling or Warner Bros., and make no money from this venture. This work is purely for entertainment purposes._

* * *

—CHAPTER TEN—

 _Colin_

For most people, the day following the funeral of Neville Longbottom was no different to any other day, Colin had discovered. He knew that Neville's death came as a shock to a lot of people, but he had also noticed that most seemed to have gotten over it quickly. At least, those that hadn't been directly affected had.

When he made his way downstairs that morning, he was greeted by the sight of some Second Year boys joking and laughing. Later he saw some Hufflepuff girls playing near the lake with gleeful looks on their faces. Some others were just generally smiling and happy. Even Dennis appeared to be in a good mood. The worst, and most shameful, part of it all was that Colin really wanted to be part of that.

It wasn't that Neville's death didn't upset him, because it did, but everyone who he was now apparently friends with were affected more than he was and, as a result, they were much more depressing to be around. It wasn't that he didn't want to be around them, he was just feeling the effects of it rather acutely. He just wanted them to smile. It wasn't until lunch time that something happened that was more light-hearted. They had been sitting at the Gryffindor table for about ten minutes and, after a while, Hermione spoke up.

"Harry," she said quietly. "Why do you keep blushing when you look at the Ravenclaw table?" Colin looked at Harry closer and saw that Hermione was right. His cheeks were tinged a slight red.

"Gotta be Cho, right?" Ron asked nonchalantly after swallowing some chicken.

"No!" Harry said suddenly, his face reddening further.

"Who then?" Colin asked, not even trying to conceal his smile.

"Uhh …" Harry said as his eyes flickered to the table behind Colin. Hermione, who was seated next to Harry gasped slightly before smiling and giggling. Harry glared at her. "Stop."

"What?" Colin asked eagerly, looking over his shoulder. "Who is it?" Ginny, who was sitting next to Colin, and who had looked before Colin, giggled as well.

"Stop it," Harry mumbled. Colin turned around to see him blushing even more. Ron, who was on the other side of Harry looked perplexed.

"If it isn't Cho, then who is it?" he asked, confused. Hermione and Ginny giggled even more.

"All right," Harry said abruptly, dropping his fork on his plate. "All right. I'll tell you what happened."

"Ooh, something _happened_ ," Ginny said with a broad smile. Harry gave her a glare, but that only made her laugh. "Get on with it then. And don't leave anything out. I live for _juicy details_." Harry didn't look pleased, but he talked nonetheless.

"Well, Hermione and Colin already know that I went with Luna to Ravenclaw Tower last night because I didn't want her to go alone," he said quietly, so as to not allow anyone else to hear. "We took a quick way. Apparently she knows the castle really well. Maybe better than the Marauders. We went down a corridor I didn't recognise."

"Get on with it," Ginny urged, a grin on her face as she leaned in so she could listen more closely. Harry glared at her again. Colin saw that Hermione had a smile on her face that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Well, we got there and I was just saying goodbye," Harry continued, his face still red, "and she kissed me." Ginny let out a little squeak and Colin felt a strange jealousy that was almost immediately quashed by his brain.

"She kissed you?" Ron asked, his voice incredulous. "Loony Lovegood kissed you?"

"Luna," Harry corrected. "And don't broadcast it."

"That's so cute," Hermione said brightly.

"It is _not_ cute," Harry said quickly.

"Yes it is," Ginny said, a joking air about her voice. "But what was it like?" Harry blushed even more.

"It wasn't much," he said quietly. "Just a second."

"It could just be Luna being friendly," Colin suggested. Ginny shook her head.

"Luna isn't the type to kiss friends," she said quickly, winking at Harry.

"You gonna go for it?" Ron asked, eating some noodles.

"Have some tact Ronald," Hermione said before turning to Harry. "Well are you?"

"I don't know," Harry said angrily and louder than before. "It was just a kiss."

"Oh look," Ginny said, grinning once again. "She's coming over. Look out Harry!"

In a few moments, Luna was at the Gryffindor table. Colin told her that she could sit next to him and she did.

"Hello," she said airily. She looked at the table. "Ooh! You have noodles! We didn't get those." She found a plate and put some noodles on it. Ginny was barely containing her laughter.

"How did you sleep last night Luna?" Hermione asked nicely, breaking the sudden silence.

"Oh, dreadfully," Luna replied. "I had a very odd dream about a woman in a blue dress."

"Oh, that's no good," Colin said as Luna ate some noodles.

"So you got to Ravenclaw Tower alright?" Ginny asked. Luna didn't look at her, which was probably a good thing because of the look on Ginny's face.

"Yes," Luna replied. "Harry walked me there, did you know?"

"Did he?" Ginny asked in mock surprise, her eyes comically bulging.

"Yes, he offered to go with me after you left," Luna said with a smile, looking at Harry. "That was very nice of you Harry."

"I … it was … it was my pleasure Luna," Harry stammered out, his face red. Colin felt Ginny nudge him in the ribs as she struggled not to laugh.

"You look very red, Harry," Luna said, concerned. "Did you get bitten by anything strange?" For some reason, that was too much for Ginny who suddenly burst out laughing. After a moment, she stopped laughing and stood up. She took one look at Harry's angry face and burst out laughing again. She laughed almost the whole way out of the Hall. When she got to the doors, she looked back for a moment, right at where Harry and Luna were and burst out laughing again before leaving, the Great Hall watching her as she went. Colin was doing his best not to laugh as well.

"Well that was odd," Luna said, eating some more noodles.

After lunch, Colin was stopped by Dennis, who had a strangely concerned look on his face.

"What's wrong?" Colin asked his little brother who was wringing his hands together.

"I was just thinking," Dennis said quietly. "What are we going to tell Dad?"

"What do you mean?" Colin asked, a little confused.

"About Voldemort," Dennis said, even quieter as some young Ravenclaw girls passed them. Colin thought about it. In truth, he hadn't even thought about what he would tell his father. He couldn't very well hide the truth from him.

"I don't know," he said thoughtfully. "I think we should tell him. He needs to know the truth."

"But he won't let us come back to Hogwarts," Dennis said, suddenly rather distraught. "He'll think it's too dangerous. He'll pull us out and we'll never come back. I love it here, Col." Colin put a hand on his brother's shoulder. He realised that Dennis was nearly his own height, and that frightened him a little bit.

"I'll make sure he doesn't," Colin replied softly. "He knows how much we love it here, so I think I'll be able to convince him."

"But what if you can't?" Dennis asked, still concerned. Colin smiled.

"Well, then we'll have to come up with a way to get here," he announced and his little brother's face lit up.

"Yeah!" he said excitedly. "We can run away and catch the train!"

"Maybe," Colin said, with a laugh. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

"Thanks," Dennis said, giving his brother a quick hug. "You always make me feel better."

"No problem," Colin replied. "Now go and find your friends. We leave in a few days, so you should spend some more time with them." Dennis nodded quickly and rushed off somewhere to find his friends. Colin smiled at that. Just a week before then, he knew he would have felt some kind of jealousy or even resentment at that. In so short a time, Colin finally had friends.

Well, one friend that he was certain of. Maybe two. By this point, Colin was sure that Harry was his friend. He couldn't see any way that he couldn't be. And Ginny was nice enough to him before, so he thought that she might have warmed to him a little quicker. Colin wasn't really sure where he stood with the others. Hermione was kind enough, but Colin had to wonder whether she was just being kind to a friend of a friend. Luna was always nice and seemed to like him, though he could never be sure what she thought. He didn't really know why, but something about Luna seemed to keep him at a distance.

The only other person besides Harry that Colin knew where he stood with was Ron Weasley. Colin knew what Ron thought of him, even if the redhead had not voiced it. Not that he could particularly blame him. Harry _was_ Ron's friend first after all. But Colin was rather hurt by the glares and looks of annoyance that Ron gave him more often than not. He understood why Ron was like this, but that didn't mean it made him feel good.

The difficult thing was that Colin couldn't tell anyone all of this. If he went to Harry with it, he had no idea how Harry would react. He couldn't tell Ginny because Ron was her brother. He didn't feel comfortable going to Hermione with this sort of stuff. And he felt it too weird to talk much to Luna. He would have told Dennis only it felt strange now, going to his younger brother for comfort with regards to friends.

So Colin pushed everything to do with that aside. As much as he wished he could change Ron's opinion of him, he didn't think he could actually do it, so he resolved to just be a good friend to Harry. That was what he had wanted before, and it felt selfish to want more now that he had it.

"Oh, look," came a voice from in front of him. Colin looked up and saw Draco Malfoy flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. Pansy Parkinson was smirking next to Draco. "It's the Mudblood. Creamy or something." Parkinson laughed a terrible laugh that Colin hated more than anything in the world.

"Excuse me," Colin murmured, trying to walk past Crabbe, who stepped in front of him. The larger boy pushed Colin hard and he fell backwards, falling to the stone ground. He quickly stood back up again.

"We will not excuse you," Malfoy said with a sneer. "We've heard you're hanging around with Potter. Merlin, he chooses vermin to be his 'friends', doesn't he?" Parkinson laughed again as Colin got up from the ground.

"Well, at least he has friends," he said angrily. "I mean, what are they? Bodyguards. And what's she? Because I really don't know. I would say arm candy, but isn't that supposed to look good?" For a moment only Malfoy looked outraged and then, all of a sudden, Parkinson turned vicious.

" _How dare you_!" Parkinson hissed, turning to Crabbe and Goyle. "Teach him a lesson."

"No, I'll do it," Malfoy said, drawing his wand. Colin groped for his wand in his pocket, but was too late. He flew down the hall about ten feet. He felt winded when he landed on his back. Luckily he had not hit his head. He could hear their laughter as he tried to stand. When he finally stood, he found his wand and pointed it at Malfoy.

"Mr Creevey," came a silky smooth voice from behind him. "What are you doing?" Colin turned around and saw Professor Snape striding towards him. Colin opened his mouth, but Parkinson, who had used her mouth more than Colin, talked faster.

"He attacked us, Professor," she said quickly, still managing to sound frightened. Colin saw that Professor Snape looked strangely dishevelled. Snape looked him in the eyes for only a moment before looking over to the Slytherin group.

"Oh, that surely must have been terrifying," he said smoothly. "Four Fifth, almost Sixth, Year Hogwarts students against a miniscule Fourth Year boy?" Colin wasn't entirely sure, but it actually seemed as though Snape was on his side.

"But, sir," Malfoy said, his voice slightly shocked. "He attacked us first!"

"Well then, why did I see him take out his wand just this very moment?" Snape asked. Colin looked around to see the nervous looks on the faces of Crabbe, Goyle and Parkinson. Malfoy was the only one to seemingly remain calm.

"He was going to attack us the Muggle way, sir," Malfoy said coolly. "He was running at us. I was using self-defence."

"Why would a boy of his size run up to four Slytherins?" Snape asked fiercely. "Two of whom are menacing even to adults. Do you take me for a fool? Five points each from Slytherin and I will see you for detention tonight and tomorrow night as well, Malfoy. Move along, Creevey."

Colin didn't do anything but walk past Crabbe in utter shock. He caught a glimpse of Malfoy's face which mirrored his own. For a second, he was wondering whether he had actually been knocked out when he hit the ground and everything that had happened since was just a dream. But it wasn't going away, so he assumed it was real. Snape had just taken points away from Slytherin house _and_ given Draco Malfoy a detention. Colin had to make sure that the sky wasn't red.

He rushed into the Gryffindor Common Room to tell Harry what had just happened and found that Harry wasn't there. Nor were Ron or Ginny. Hermione sat on her own, reading a rather large book. Colin had been wanting to know something for a while, so he plucked up his courage and sat next to her. Upon feeling his weight next to her, she looked up from the book.

"Oh, hi Colin," she said with a smile. "Harry's out flying on his broom with Ron and Ginny. Professor McGonagall just gave it back to him."

"That's okay," Colin replied. "I actually wanted to talk to you. But before that, I need to tell you something."

Colin told Hermione all about Snape, Malfoy and the others. Hermione looked rather confused.

"But that doesn't make any sense at all," she murmured, not saying much more.

"I didn't think so either," Colin said with a nod.

"And he only gave Malfoy detention?" Hermione asked. Colin nodded and Hermione's brow furrowed. She sighed. "There's no point worrying about it. We wouldn't be able to do anything about it anyway. You had something else you wanted to talk to me about?"

"I just wanted to know what Harry does when he isn't at Hogwarts," Colin said quietly. Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"Why are you asking?" she asked, her voice slightly suspicious. Colin suddenly felt a little uneasy, not at the question but at what Hermione had to be thinking to say such a thing. "Why don't you just ask Harry?"

"I just think it might be a bit tactless to just ask him straight out," Colin replied defensively. "I know he lives with Muggles, and I know that he doesn't talk about it much. I don't want to touch a nerve or anything. I mean, we aren't really _that_ close yet."

"Makes sense," Hermione said after a moment, only a hint of her former suspicion still present. "But still, why are you asking?"

"I was thinking I might be able to visit him during the holidays if he's close by," Colin confessed. Hermione's eyes suddenly widened.

"Oh, I don't think that's a very good idea," she said quickly and Colin felt rather let down. "His family hates everything magical. You wouldn't be welcome." For some reason, this lifted Colin's spirits slightly, even though he knew that it shouldn't.

"What if I pretend to be a Muggle?" he asked. Hermione thought for a moment before shaking her head.

"Harry doesn't have friends in the Muggle world," she replied. "His aunt and uncle would catch on right away."

"So there's no way?" Colin asked, slightly downcast. Hermione looked on in thought for a moment.

"I wouldn't say that," Hermione said slowly. "I suppose if we found a way to make sure that his family didn't even know that you are there, perhaps it could work."

"How would we do that?" Colin asked excitedly, happy that Hermione was taking him seriously.

"Well, we would have to get Harry involved," she said, thinking. "We could get him to go for a walk when you are coming. Then you and he could meet up."

"Sounds good," Colin said even more excitedly than before. He suddenly had a thought. "Do you live close to Harry?"

"Kind of," Hermione replied. "If I were to ask Dad, he would probably drive me to see him, so I do live somewhat close to him."

"Why don't you come as well?" Colin asked, a grin on his face. Hermione frowned and shook her head grimly.

"Dumbledore wouldn't allow it," she said plainly. Colin tilted his head slightly to the left. "I'm too well known to the Death Eaters and we can't risk it. Actually, that's why you are a good choice."

"Because the Death Eaters don't know me?" Colin asked as Hermione nodded.

"It's always a danger to anyone who tries to connect with Harry outside of Hogwarts," Hermione said softly. "Ron and I are too close to him and now Ginny and Luna are known to them. That leaves you. And if you're close enough, you could keep him company. I know Harry hates it there on his own."

"So where does he live?" Colin asked finally.

"Little Whinging, Surrey," Hermione replied. Colin thought for a moment.

"I think that's actually on Dad's route," he said finally, feeling his excitement building again. "That means it can't be too far from home."

"That's great," Hermione said, a smile on her face. "We just have to get Harry to agree to it and then we'll have to think it through some more to make sure it's foolproof."

"But you think it's good?" Colin asked quietly and Hermione nodded.

"I always feel bad about Harry having to go back there on his own and never visiting him," Hermione replied sadly, her eyes looking at the floor. "I was always either away, my letters never arrived or there was too much danger to go and see him. And now I can't. So I think it's a wonderful idea that you go and see him. I don't like Harry being alone, especially there."

Not long after the discussion, Colin and Hermione decided to find Harry to tell him about their plan and so they started walking towards the Quidditch Pitch. While they walked, Colin idly wondered if he would be good enough to try out for the Gryffindor Team next year. They would need new Beaters. Colin was debating whether or not to try out in his head when he and Hermione ran into Ron and Ginny walking away from the pitch.

"Hey guys," Ginny said, bubbly and with a nice smile. "Where are you headed?"

"We want to find Harry," Hermione said. Ginny giggled, but Ron answered.

"Luna showed up and wanted to talk with him," Ron said, the slightest hint of a smile on his face as he spoke. "So we gave them some privacy." Ginny giggled again.

"Alright," Hermione said. "We'll go and see if Harry will talk with us."

"Good luck," Ginny said with a sly smile as she and Ron shouldered their brooms and walked off towards the castle.

It didn't take the two of them long to get to the pitch and enter on to the grounds. They looked around for a while until they both seemed to spot the two at the same time. Harry and Luna were walking slowly, hand in hand. Colin started walking towards them with Hermione next to him. All of a sudden, Harry and Luna stopped walking. Harry turned around, leant down slightly and kissed Luna.

Colin stopped walking suddenly, jealousy swooping down on him as he watched the scene. He averted his eyes and suddenly felt a great feeling of guilt at what he had just felt. He didn't want to feel the jealousy. He knew he shouldn't, and yet it was there and it annoyed him beyond belief. He looked up and saw that Hermione was smiling, though it wasn't reaching her eyes.


	12. Minerva II

_**Disclaimer:**_ _I make no claim to the rights of any characters that are owned by J.K. Rowling or Warner Bros., and make no money from this venture. This work is purely for entertainment purposes._

* * *

—CHAPTER ELEVEN—

 _Minerva_

The wall of Minerva's office had been repaired rather quickly by Professor Flitwick when she had returned from the funeral. It had not been entirely unexpected, if she was being truthful. Albus had come to her the day of the funeral and told her what Severus had told him. Draco Malfoy was searching for the list of next year's students on You-Know-Who's bidding. Naturally, Albus and Minerva warded the room and the list so that there was no way for Draco to get at it.

But Albus had assured her that the only way to keep Draco safe was to let him at least attempt to find it. Minerva had agreed with that idea and rid the room of anything precious to her before leaving to the funeral. While at the funeral, she got a message in the form of Filius' owl saying that her office wall had been destroyed, so they would have to go back through the Hospital Wing. She did this before going with Albus to meet up with Filius at her office. Once there it was clear that the office had been searched, but the list was still there, untouched. Minerva had let out a breath upon discovering that.

Albus, now seated in his large, ornate chair, sat with his fingers intertwined, resting just in front of his long, silver beard. Minerva was worried about why he had called her to the office as she sat in the chair opposite him. There were very few times that he called upon her, and only her, these days.

"What's wrong, Albus?" Minerva asked kindly and Albus smiled slightly.

"I am concerned about young Draco," Albus replied gravely. In truth, Minerva had been worried about the boy as well. He was only a teenager, after all, and he was apparently being groomed to take his father's place as a Death Eater. Even for the son of a Black and a Malfoy, this was a lot for a teenager to endure.

"We did all we could," Minerva reminded him, and Albus nodded.

"I do very much agree," Albus replied. "However, I see a problem. Even if Voldemort found it in himself to spare Draco and Narcissa any pain for the failed plan, he would still be very angry and Severus would have reported so after the meeting last night. I confess that I am concerned by the lack of anger."

"Is it possible that Severus is not telling the whole truth?" Minerva asked, never having truly gotten past the fact that Severus Snape had once been a Death Eater. She had taught the boy before, and she knew that he wasn't entirely bad, but she could not be entirely forgiving of someone who sided with the Death Eaters.

"I trust Severus completely," Albus replied dismissively. "If Severus does not report anything about Voldemort being upset, that is concerning."

"Is there any way that Draco could have gotten his hands on the list?" Minerva asked. Albus shook his head, looking slightly older than Minerva could ever remember him being.

"I do not believe so," he replied thoughtfully. Minerva was thinking of possibilities, though she could see no way either. That list was one of a kind, and it remained where it was supposed to be. "We can only speculate, though it is entirely possible that Voldemort may not have put much faith in whatever plan he had, so he is not so angry."

"Or perhaps he isn't letting Severus in on everything," Minerva suggested. Albus nodded sagely.

"That thought had crossed my mind as well," the older man replied. "Perhaps Voldemort does not want us to know that he is punishing Draco, so he does not inform Severus for fear of either him slipping up or fear that he is a spy. Which of the two? We cannot know for sure. Severus is an invaluable spy for us, but that does not make him an infallible one."

"What do we do?" Minerva asked, not really seeing any way to help Draco should he need it.

"I'm afraid there is nothing we can do until Severus gets word of what is or is not going on," Albus replied wearily. "Until that time, we must focus on other things."

"Other things?" Minerva asked, slightly confused. Albus smiled and a twinkle reached his eye.

"We need a new Defence teacher," Albus said almost happily. "Dear Dolores no longer wishes to return to the position next year." Minerva snorted.

"I think if she did we wouldn't have any students," she said, her voice icy. "As far as I'm concerned, as long as her replacement is any more competent than her, I will be happy. So, by that logic we seem to require any human being on the planet." Albus laughed before turning serious once again.

"The issue we are facing is that no one else wants to take the job," Albus said. "That was why Cornelius forced Dolores on us in the first place. No other person had applied, except for Severus and I did not feel that I should grant him the job."

"Have you got anyone in mind?" Minerva asked, concerned. The track record with Professors in that class were sketchy at best. "Perhaps someone from the Order?"

"I'm afraid, we can't really spare anyone from the Order, Minerva," Albus replied sadly. "Not at this time. Everyone who might have been able to do the job is already too busy with their own jobs."

"What about Sirius?" Minerva asked suddenly. "Now that the Ministry is no longer calling you a liar, surely they would be more inclined to hear what you have to say about Sirius. And if he gets off, you could give him the job?"

"I have informed Amelia that I will get proof of Peter's survival, and Severus is planning to do that tonight," Albus replied with a twinkle. "If he can do so, Sirius will be free. As for giving him a job … I do not think that is wise. He spent so many years in Azkaban and then even more in hiding. He would not be prepared to teach the class well enough."

"That makes sense," Minerva said, finding herself happy that Albus was working hard on getting Sirius' freedom. She was a little concerned about Severus' involvement, but said nothing. "If not Sirius, then who do you have in mind? We need someone in the position that we can trust, and everyone in the Order is, as you said, too busy to take up the post."

"I had, at one point, thought about asking Amelia Bones, herself" Albus said, thinking. "But it appears that she may have even less time now that Cornelius is likely stepping down. In truth, I can think of no one else that would be competent enough, willing to take the job and trustworthy enough."

"This is exactly what happened last time," Minerva said with a sigh. "So you truly have no plans?"

"Oh, I have a few plans," Albus confessed, his mouth twitching. "But the only one that I feel I have perfected enough to mention is not hiring anyone and letting the Ministry assign another."

"What?" Minerva interjected loudly and quickly. "Albus, that's how we got _her_!"

"Minerva, calm down," Albus said with a smile and, as always happened, Minerva did become calmer. "That was under Cornelius' leadership. He assigned Dolores to the post. If Amelia becomes Minister after him, as I do believe she will, I am confident that someone more competent will be chosen. Perhaps even Kingsley, in which case he will have to take the job regardless of his Order duties." Minerva thought about the plan for a few moments.

"It is very reliant on Amelia becoming Minister," she said sceptically.

"Indeed," Albus replied slightly solemnly. "It is also the case that we have no idea who Voldemort has in the Ministry. I feel like this should be a last resort."

"I agree," Minerva replied. After a moment of silence, she spoke again. "Albus, are you sure that the Muggle-borns are fine? There is absolutely no way that the Death Eaters could have gotten the list?"

"I do not see one," Albus replied.

"And you are always the first person to say that even you are not infallible," Minerva said pointedly. "Should we put some safety in place for them anyway? As a precaution?"

"There are fifty-two Muggleborn students starting next year," Albus said calmly. "The Order does not have the manpower to put sufficient wards over them, otherwise I would have done it already. You of all people know that student safety is a top priority of mine."

"What about the Ministry?" Minerva asked. Dumbledore shook his head, his beard swaying slightly.

"The Ministry is in chaos right now," Albus replied. "We cannot trust them at the moment. There is no possible way that Draco Malfoy touched or even got near that parchment. You performed the spells yourself. The Muggle-borns are as safe as any Muggles are."

 _You are not the one who would have to visit the smoking crater where a house once was_ , Minerva thought to herself bitterly. In truth, however, Miverva knew that Albus was right. There was no way that Draco got the list. It was just an irrational fear.

"Okay, Albus," Minerva said, resigned. "You're right. Was there anything else?" Albus looked as though he was going to say something but changed his mind.

"No, I don't believe so," Albus replied. Minerva nodded.

"Good," she replied. "As it turns out, I have to visit a Muggle-born student about their place her next year."

"Ah, well I shall not hold you back from that," Albus replied, a twinkle in his eyes. "I know that you enjoy that particular job." Minerva smiled.

"I do," she replied. Albus was one of only a few people in the world that Minerva would tell that to. In truth, she loved the idea of being able to change a child's life and tell them of the wonderful powers they didn't even know they possessed. She had done the job for a long time and had only ever disliked five visits, and that was because of the parents involved being completely irrational and unapproachable. Minerva bid Albus goodbye and left the office.

It was around midday, so there seemed to be students everywhere. Most of them avoided Minerva on purpose, which she found endlessly amusing. She couldn't help but think that it was a good thing that they were somewhat afraid of her. While she might see these children as her own in some ways, they should not see her as a maternal figure unless necessary. She is a teacher and a disciplinarian, not a mother.

When Minerva reached her office, she found a girl waiting for her. She was a First Year Gryffindor girl, short for her age and with long black hair. Brianna Tarbeck. Brianna was a Muggle-born girl whose family Minerva had visited in January of the previous year. She recalled that the family were not entirely shocked at the news. Apparently Brianna had been exhibiting more overt signs of being a witch than most children did. Currently the little girl was toying with a lock of her hair and looking at the floor.

Minerva had told the Gryffindor students to come and see her if need be, but she had not truly expected any to do so. Most Gryffindor's were under the impression that "courage" meant ignoring feelings and being strong enough to face it all on their own. Over the years, Minerva had found this to be entirely false, though she could not fault her students as she, herself, had thought so at one time.

Sometimes she felt that the House system created too high expectations for eleven year olds.

"Professor," Brianna said in her shy voice as she saw Minerva approaching, letting the lock of hair fall. She sounded worried.

"Miss Tarbeck," Minerva replied. She tried to keep her voice stern, but not so stern that it would frighten the girl. "Did you wish to speak to me?" The girl looked at her feet. This was one of the moments when Minerva didn't like the students fearing her.

"If you have the time," the girl replied meekly.

"I have some time," Minerva said, more kindly than before. This made the girl look less apprehensive, which was always a good thing. "However, I do need to get do something else, so it can't be too long. I'm sure you understand, as I will be visiting the house of a Muggle-born child." Brianna smiled.

"Oh, yes," she said happily. "I understand."

"Shall we?" Minerva asked, pushing open the door to the repaired office.

When the two entered the room, Minerva motioned for Brianna to sit in the chair opposite her own desk. Minerva soon sat down. She said nothing for some time, believing that it was sometimes best for the student to strike up the conversation first. However, Brianna said nothing.

"What is worrying you?" Minerva asked kindly. The girl almost reached for her hair, but thought better of it, it seemed.

"I'm worried about what will happen when I go home," Brianna replied. Minerva was instantly concerned. She thought of past students who had been abused by their parents who had said the same thing. But she could not remember Brianna's parents seeming as though they would do that to her.

Not wishing to scare the girl, Minerva said simply, "Why is that?"

"Well, You-Know-Who is back," Brianna said in a whisper, as though the mere mention of that non-name could bring him down upon her. Not that Minerva could blame her. "I'm worried that if I tell Mum and Dad, they won't let me come back." Minerva wanted to sigh in relief, but did not want to seem as though she wasn't taking her seriously.

"I see," she replied slowly. "Yes, He Who Must Not Be Named is back, and has been for a year now. But you are safer here than you would be at home, I assure you."

"Well … I know that," Brianna said slowly. "But my parents don't. They will only see him and nothing else. They'll pull me out for sure."

"If that happens, there is nothing that I can do if he chooses to withdraw you, unfortunately," Minerva said, wishing she could say something different, especially after seeing the look on her face. "However, I am planning to write a letter to the parents of all Muggle-born students outlining the aspects of his return, and what it means. You can rest assured that I will be imploring parents to keep their children at Hogwarts. I will ensure that this castle is the safest place possible."

This had been her own plan a year prior. However the Ministry had put an end to it when they found out. At the time, they were fervently denying the re-emergence of He Who Must Not Be Named. Now, they seemed to be on board. In fact, Cornelius Fudge requested it himself. Bizarrely, he had not attempted to take credit for the idea, as Minerva had expected he would do. He actually credited her. It had come as something of a shock.

"But what if they don't care?" Brianna said, her face distraught. Minerva's heart went out to the girl, but knew there was not much that she could do. "What if they pull me out? Or makes me give up magic entirely?" Before she could say anything else, Minerva cut her off.

"If they do, I will personally pay them a visit," she said quickly. This had not been a part of the original idea, but Pomona Sprout had suggested it earlier in the day. In retrospect, Minerva was not surprised. The majority of Muggle-borns seemed to be sorted into Hufflepuff upon arrival at Hogwarts, so Pomona had a very good reason to want them to remain at the school. "I will try to convince them to allow you to continue to attend. If, after that, they are still intent on pulling you out, there is nothing I can do." Brianna sniffed.

"I guess that's okay," she said with a smile. "I hope they listen. I'm sure the others will be happy about this as well."

"Others?" Minerva asked, perplexed.

"I was chosen to come to you by some of the First Year Muggle-borns," she replied. "All of the Gryffindors and some Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws we know. We were all worried. So are some of the older kids, but they don't want to bring it to you." Minerva was taken aback, not because Muggle-born students were concerned about their future at Hogwarts, but that they had all seemingly banded together.

Towards the end of the last war, the Muggle-born attendance had dramatically decreased to the point that there were more not attending Hogwarts than were actually attending. Although, if truth be told, the general attendance had fallen dramatically since the rise of He Who Must Not Be Named, but the Muggle-borns were hit the most. After the war, the Ministry extended an offer to the Muggle-borns who had pulled out of Hogwarts to continue study, either at Hogwarts itself or at the Ministry. Most had taken up the offer, which Minerva had been very pleased about.

Perhaps it was just the thought that only one Muggle-born student, a little First Year girl, felt brave enough to ask her questions about it, but she was growing more and more concerned about how they were all dealing with both the recent events and how their parents would react when they got back to their homes. She resolved to make an announcement at the next meal she attended so as to try and alleviate some of the stress and fears of the students.

"Ah," she said after a few moments. "Well, it was good of you to do this for your friends. But tell them all the next time you see them that they can feel free to come to me with issues as important as these. Muggle-born students are of the highest priority here at Hogwarts."

"I will, Professor," Brianna said, with a large, bright smile. "Thank you so much."

"It was no problem," Minerva replied with a small smile of her own. She gave out smiles so rarely that it might encourage the girl more. She was pleased to have made the girl a little happier. She only hoped that, through the retelling, her words could help some of the others. She had no doubt that word would spread quickly. That was the way of Hogwarts, for better or for worse.

When Brianna left her office, Minerva placed a locking spell on the door and turned to where she kept the list of students to be attending the school the following year. While it was warded against entry, she and Albus could both access it. When she had hold of it, she put it on her desk and it flattened itself. That was one of the more useful charms on the parchment.

The names of all two hundred and fifty-three students were there in alphabetical order. Next to their names were their date of birth and address. Minerva had been noticing for the last few years that the numbers were steadily increasing. Because the amount of children with magical abilities born during the war were low, there were smaller student numbers between the late 1970's and 1991. Because of this, there was a much larger than usual percentage of Muggle-born students following the War. Since the War was over, magical people started having children again, and the population of Hogwarts rose accordingly.

However, the Muggle-born population had been rising as well, which had perplexed Minerva greatly. Albus had many theories about why this was happening. His best guess was that the number of Muggle-born children might be somehow related to the overall population count of the Wizarding populous in the area He had noted that in smaller Wizarding populations, such as in Nigeria, there were also fewer Muggle-born children. He did not have proof to back it up, however, and decided not to pursue the thoughts further when the population evened out again.

The list itself was also charmed so as to make the ink flash if one of the Muggleborn children, marked with a star, turn eleven on the day. There was only one name, date of birth and address flashing on this day.

 _Mark Evans – D.O.B.: 24/06/1985 – Address: 29 Marsh Street, Little Whinging, Surrey, England. *_

Minerva usually only glanced at the names before it was necessary for her to know where to find them, so she had not seen that there was another child in Little Whinging with magical powers. She assumed that they must live outside of the wards on Number 4, Privet Drive otherwise Albus would have known there was another child there.

Minerva wrote down the address and the name on a piece of parchment and slipped it in her pocket before leaving her office to go to the gates of Hogwarts.


	13. Mark I

_**Disclaimer:**_ _I make no claim to the rights of any characters that are owned by J.K. Rowling or Warner Bros., and make no money from this venture. This work is purely for entertainment purposes._

* * *

—CHAPTER TWELVE—

 _Mark_

Mark Evans was not having a very good birthday, all things considered. While his day had started off fantastic, with his parents surprising him with breakfast in bed and giving him a really nice new bike as a gift, it had soon deteriorated when he got to school.

Mark had only been at this particular school for a few years and was still treated as the "new kid" even though other kids had come through after him. As such, most people seemed to avoid him like the plague. He had found only one friend at the school, and that was a boy who had come to the school a few months after he had, Xavier Connington. His teacher had made Mark show him around when he first arrived, and they remained friends afterwards.

However, Xavier had not shown up on the day of Mark's birthday. Mark had waited for him before classes started, but he never showed up. That was just the first bad thing to happen.

When he got into class, the next bad thing happened. Well, it wasn't so much bad as it was embarrassing. Mark's teacher, Miss Runnels, had kept a list of the birthdays of each of her students so that they could know each other's birthday. And every time someone had a birthday, the whole class had to sing "Happy Birthday" to them. When it came time for the class to do that for Mark, Miss Runnels led them in song, but only three others sang. One girl who was nice to everyone, one boy who didn't entirely dislike Mark and another girl who, everyone knew, just loved the sound of her own voice.

As a result, Miss Runnels stopped and chided everyone else, and made them sing to him. As if it wasn't already bad enough. As the class half-heartedly sang to Mark, he felt his face redden despite himself. It was never good when that happened to him, he knew. His face was already red enough, what with his dark red hair atop his head and all. He didn't need any other reason to be red.

The third bad thing happened during the first break of the day. He was eating alone, as he would usually sit and talk to Xavier. He hated when Xavier wasn't at school. He always felt much lonelier. It was just after he had finished eating an apple that they came over. Jamie Stetson, Rob Calloway and Brandon Young.

These three had been terrorising Mark ever since he came to the school. The rest of the students mostly just left him alone, but these three seemed to make it their mission to hurt Mark as much as possible. Rob pushed him off the seat and on to the ground. Mark was used to it, so he just got up and brushed himself off. At least it was just grass this time.

Mark was short for his age. Jamie, Rob and Brandon all stood quite a few inches taller than him and were far more well-built than Mark ever dreamed of being. When he stood up, he knew he couldn't look intimidating to them, so he looked at the ground from where he had just risen in the hopes that they might leave him alone. His hopes were almost immediately dashed.

"Aw look," Jamie said in a mocking tone, "he got up." Brandon moved forward and pushed Mark, but as he was standing, he was able to keep his footing, though only just. The three laughed as one, though Mark could tell Jamie's laugh from the other two as his was more like the laugh of a hyena. It was extremely grating. Rob punched Brandon in the arm, though it was playful unlike when they punched Mark in the arm.

"Damn it, Brand," Rob said with a laugh. "You can't even push a tiny kid over. You're weak as hell."

"No I'm not," Brandon replied in his slow, monotone voice. He was the dumbest of the three. Everyone knew that. Brandon ran forward to prove his strength and pushed Mark to the ground. Mark had been pushed so often that he had learned how to fall so that he didn't get as hurt. He decided to stay down a little longer this time to give them the satisfaction they wanted. Maybe they would go away. "See? I'm strong!"

"Yeah you are!" Jamie said, somewhat too triumphantly. "Pick him up now. And hold his arms."

Brandon obeyed and within half a minute, Mark was standing face-to-face with Jamie while Brandon held his arms behind his back. Rob was standing guard. The area where Mark and Xavier sat for breaks was reasonably secluded, so it wasn't too hard for Rob to keep guard.

"This'll be good," Jamie murmured but before he could land a blow, Rob swore under his breath.

"She's coming," he said quickly. Brandon seemed to take some time to realise what was going on, but eventually let go of Mark. When he did, Jamie forced Mark into the seat and sat down with him.

"You do what we tell you, understand?" he whispered angrily and Mark could only nod his assent as his teacher approached. When Miss Runnels came upon them, her customary smile wasn't on her face. Her eyes went from Jamie to Mark, though she said nothing. They never did. Not even the nice ones. But she knew. Mark could tell.

"Mark, your father is at the front office," Miss Runnels said tentatively, trying to ignore what had obviously been going on. "He says he is going to take you home. A … family emergency." It was obvious that Miss Runnels didn't believe that, and rightly so. Mark's parents knew how much he disliked school, so they told him that they would pick him up after he spent some time at school that day. He had asked to go to school for at least some of the day because he wanted to see Xavier.

"Oh," Mark tried to look anxious, and moderately succeeded. "Of course, miss. I'll go right away."

"Do you need me to escort you?" she asked as Mark tried to get past her and put as much distance as he could between him and everyone there.

"No, it's fine," Mark said, turning around and facing her. "I know the way."

"I'll go with him," Jamie suggested, almost kindly.

"No, I don't think that's necessary," Miss Runnels replied swiftly before turning to smile slightly at Mark, who could only smile back. He liked Miss Runnels well enough, but he knew that she couldn't help him. Not in any way that mattered. She might have stopped Jamie and his friends today, but they would be back tomorrow. And Xavier would get it then too, if he showed up. Mark found himself hoping that his friend stayed away again.

Mark stopped by his classroom and picked up his bag before heading off. The nice girl saw him and waved with a smile. Mark only smiled back at her before continuing in the same direction. No one else seemed to notice him leave, and that was entirely fine by him.

Mark's father was, as Miss Runnels had told him, waiting in the front office. He was not a big man. In fact, he was rather scrawny. That was where Mark had gotten it from, he knew. That and his hair colour and eyes. Mark and his father shared the same dark red hair and green eyes, to the point that people often commented on it. However, besides his build, hair and eye colour, Mark had gotten nothing else from his father. He favoured his mother in most things. Where his father had a reasonably large nose, Mark and his mother had smaller noses. Mark's whole facial structure resembled that of his mother and he also found that he and his mother were alike in their personality as well.

"Hey buddy," his father said happily, ruffling Mark's short red hair. "I've already signed you out, so we can go. What's this?" His father's hands brushed off some dirt from Mark's shirt.

"Oh, that's just a bit of dirt," Mark said truthfully. "Nothing to be worried about." His father laughed.

"When I was your age, I was always getting dirty," he said, leading Mark outside and to the white car out the front of the school. Mark threw his bag on the back seat and got in the front seat. When they were driving, his father spoke up again. "Your mother and I are taking you out for lunch. If we're going to take the day off work, we'll do it right."

They picked up Mark's mother and they all went to his favourite fast food restaurant. It wasn't much, but he loved it all the same. He loved his parents for taking the day off for him, just because it was his birthday. He had said that it wasn't necessary, but they insisted and he was hardly going to say no. When they finished eating, they had to do a bit of shopping, but afterwards went straight home where he was allowed to play with his video games while his parents worked on some work things they had to do. He knew it was all boring stuff, so he didn't feel bad about leaving them to it.

A few hours later, not long after school would have ended, Mark heard the doorbell. He looked away from his game for just a moment in curiosity, but looked back quick enough. His parents were well liked. It was likely just one of their friends. After a few minutes, there was a knock at his door, and Mark's mother entered looking slightly confused. She was of a height with her husband, though her hair was a light brown colour and her eyes were a dull blue.

"There's a woman here to see you about a school," she said, unsure of herself.

"What school?" Mark asked, pausing his game.

"I don't really know," his mother replied. "She just said that you ought to be present."

"Have you met her before?" Mark asked, standing upright again. His mother shook her head.

"Not that I know of," she said. "Come on. We'll talk to her for a while, then you can get back to your game."

When they got downstairs, Mark's father was giving a woman a cup of tea. The woman was tall and wearing a green, floral dress with long sleeves. Her hair was pulled up into a tight bun, and she wore glasses. She looked almost like an eagle, though her face was not totally unkind.

"I must apologise for the intrusion," the woman said in a courteous Scottish accent before turning and seeing Mark for the first time. "And this must be Mark."

"Hello," Mark said tentatively, not leaving his mother's side.

"I don't think I caught your name," his father said suddenly, as if the thought had just occurred to him.

"Nor I yours," the woman replied, looking away from Mark. "My name is Minerva McGonagall." Mark thought it was a strange name, but said nothing.

"I'm Daniel Evans," his father replied with a smile. "And this is my wife Emma."

"How is it that you know our son's name but not ours?" his mother asked from beside him, as they approached the couch opposite Miss McGonagall.

"The students at our school are chosen rather differently than how they are at most other schools," Miss McGonagall replied after sipping her tea. "However, we are getting ahead of ourselves. There are some other matters which require attending to."

"What matters?" his father asked apprehensively. Mark had seated himself in between his parents and was directly opposite Miss McGonagall.

"This school I speak of is not an ordinary school," Miss McGonagall began. "We teach students with certain … attributes. Abilities, you might say."

"You aren't talking about one of those schools for kids with mental issues, are you?" his father said quickly. "Because Mark is fine."

"Oh no," Miss McGonagall replied calmly. It almost seemed as if she had heard that before. "This attribute is only positive, I assure you."

"What attribute?" his mother asked quietly. "We have not noticed anything different about Mark." Mark felt a sting at those words, though she wasn't wrong. He was an average student at best, and only really excelled in reading, which he thoroughly enjoyed.

"Can you be sure of that?" Miss McGonagall asked. Mark looked up at his parents, who exchanged glances. "I will take that to mean that you have noticed some _odd_ occurrences to do with your son?"

"I'm not odd!" Mark said indignantly.

"No," Miss McGonagall agreed, "you are not. But odd things _have_ happened, have they not?"

Mark thought for a moment, and one memory came back to him. He had to be about eight years old, perhaps younger. He and his parents had lived in a different house, and were preparing to leave, but Mark wasn't taking it well. In fact, he was throwing a tantrum. During that tantrum, his parents told him to go to his room, which at the time only had the bed and the desk remaining. Everything else was in boxes. Mark lay on the bed face down, crying. Not long after that, his parents came into the room only to find everything out of their boxes and back where they had been before. They had all been shocked at that since he had only been in the room for ten minutes.

Other memories came after that. The second time at his new school that he had been bullied when an older boy's hair started to grow very fast and didn't seem to stop. Dudley Dursley, a fat older boy who liked to torture younger kids, having his pants fall down for no reason at all, and screaming at his own friends. The controller of his gaming console having been repaired, even though it was smashed to pieces.

"Uhm," Mark murmured quietly. "There are things, yeah." Miss McGonagall nodded.

"What kind of things?" she asked kindly.

"Well, one time, when we were moving house, all my things went back into their right place, but no one had done it," Mark confessed.

"I remember that," his mother confirmed. Miss McGonagall nodded again.

"Were emotions quite high?" the older woman asked.

"Yeah," his mother said. "He was upset because he didn't want to move."

"What does this have to do with anything?" his father asked.

"There is a reason that these things happen to Mark," Miss McGonagall said, setting her teacup on a small table in front of her. "Mark is a wizard."

There was a stunned silence for a few seconds. Mark didn't quite understand what the woman was saying, but before he could ask anything, his father scoffed.

"Is this some kind of joke?" he asked the woman bluntly.

"It is not," she said, equally as bluntly. "I come from a school that teaches young witches and wizards the ways of magic."

"Magic?" Mark asked, confused. He was imagining a man in a top-hat pulling a rabbit out. "I can't do magic tricks."

"Not tricks," Miss McGonagall said. "Just magic. Magic is why Mark's things returned to their rightful place. He was upset about having to leave, so his own magic forced the objects back to the way he was used to having them. This happens often to children before they are taught how to control magic. I suspect this likely explains other occurrences as well."

"This is some kind of joke," his father said again, though Mark could tell he was having doubts. Mark, himself, was thinking about all of the moments he could never explain how things had happened. Magic was a possible explanation. The only one in some cases.

"Would you like proof?" Miss McGonagall said, with a hint of a smile on her stern face.

"Oh, go right ahead," his father said, with a slight laugh in his voice. "And then when you've had your fun, we'd like you to leave."

Miss McGonagall inclined her head and pulled a long stick from the right sleeve of her dress. When Mark looked again, he could see that it was no stick. It was long and polished and it was a deep brown, almost black. And there were carvings in it. She pointed it towards the teacup on the table.

" _Supplementus liquis_ ," the woman said, though Mark could not understand what it meant. But, before his very eyes, the almost empty teacup filled once more, seemingly by itself, until it was full. " _Calefacius_." The tea in the cup was now steaming slightly. Mark could not tear his eyes away from it. Neither, it seemed, could his parents. It was only when Miss McGonagall picked up the cup and sipped from it again that someone spoke.

"That was our own cup," his father said, dumbfounded. "And our tea. How did you do that?"

"Magic," Miss McGonagall replied with a shrug. Mark was in awe. "Should I show you something else that is sure to fully prove it?"

"Yeah," Mark said, eagerly. He was sure it was all real now, and was eager to see more. He was now eyeing the stick enviously.

"Are any of you allergic to cats by any chance?" Miss McGonagall asked, standing from her seat.

"Pulling a cat from a hat?" his father was plainly still not convinced.

"No one here is allergic," his mother said slowly.

Miss McGonagall was gone in an instant, a cat in her place. A tabby cat, with rings around its eyes. Mark only stared at the cat, while his mother squeaked slightly and his father sucked in a breath. The cat was only there for a few seconds before changing back into Miss McGonagall again. She sat back down and sipped at her tea again.

"But … there was …" his father was spluttering slightly as he spoke, lost for words.

"That was awesome!" Mark replied with a broad smile. "When can I do that?"

"It takes years," Miss McGonagall replied. "And you may not be a cat."

"So … it's true?" his father asked, shocked.

"It is, yes," Miss McGonagall said with a nod. _I'm a wizard_ , Mark thought to himself, an odd feeling arising. Was it excitement? Miss McGonagall then handed Mark a letter made of heavy paper that was more yellow than white. It had some kind of seal on the back, which he had to break to open. When he read the contents, he read it aloud.

 _HOGWARTS SCHOOL  
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

 _Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore  
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,  
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

 _Dear Mr. Evans,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As the book list has yet to be finalised, we shall not include a list of the necessary books and equipment at this time._

 _As you are a Muggle-born student, we understand that it may be difficult to find Diagon Alley the first time. As such, we have provided you with a detailed map of where to go to find Diagon Alley for when you need to buy your school things._

 _Term begins on September 1. We hope you will consent to attend Hogwarts. If you have any further questions, feel free to ask._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall  
Deputy Headmistress_

Following this, his parents asked several questions about what having magic meant for Mark and them. They learned of the Ministry of Magic, Hogwarts and scholarships for Muggle-born students. Mark had learned that his parents were considered "Muggles" in the magic society as they didn't have the ability. They talked about so much that it actually began to bore Mark.

"When will I be able to go and buy a wand?" he asked excitedly, having not long before learned that the stick that Professor McGonagall had was known as a wand.

"Not until you get your list," Professor McGonagall replied. "However, even when you get your wand, you are not allowed to use it outside of school until you turn seventeen." Mark groaned.

"Be patient," his mother said, chiding him.

"Now that you have all of the information," Professor McGonagall began, "have you reached a decision?"

"Forgive us, Minerva," his father replied. "This is all very sudden. If we decline, what will happen?" Professor McGonagall's eyes flickered to Mark and back to his father.

"An untrained witch or wizard is more than just a witch or wizard with no knowledge," she said slowly. "They are not able to control their magic. If Mark is not taught to control his magic, it will only get wilder and more erratic until it becomes fatal. To Mark or to the people around him."

"Oh," his father said. Professor McGonagall had discussed the dangers of magic with him before. She had mentioned someone whose name she couldn't say as well. "So, we have no choice?"

"We could provide a home tutor," Professor McGonagall said. "But they are not as effective, and it would also make it harder for Mark to integrate into magical society if he so chooses in the future."

"Is Hogwarts the best choice?" his mother asked.

"Yes," Professor McGonagall said without hesitation. "That is my most fervent belief. There are other schools, such as Beauxbatons in France, but none in England or the United Kingdom as a whole."

"I want to go," Mark told his parents, standing from his seat to face them. There was silence for a moment.

"I think we have to send him," his mother said firmly. "We don't exactly have a choice in the matter. You heard her. Fatal." Mark didn't like the thought. His father sighed.

"You're right," he said. "Of course you're right. Fine, Minerva. Mark will go to your school."

Mark almost started bouncing, he was so excited.

Professor McGonagall left not long after that. She gave Mark's parents a book to read that would answer most of their questions. She also left them with an address for if they needed to send a letter to Hogwarts. When she finally left them, Mark was so excited that his parents had to yell at him to calm down. He didn't understand why they couldn't see it. _I'm a wizard_ , he kept thinking to himself, a grin on his face.

Hours later, just after dinner, the doorbell went off. Mark answered it this time since his parents were watching television. It was Professor McGonagall once again.

"I apologise for intruding once again," she said kindly. At the sound of her voice, Mark's father beckoned her in. "I remembered while having dinner that I forgot something crucial while I was here last. I just need a bit of Mark's hair."

"His hair?" his mother asked incredulously.

"It is part of a charm we have to do to fully enrol the Muggle-born students," Professor McGonagall said. "We get the hairs at a much younger age for the children of Wizarding families."

"Oh," his mother said. "Go right ahead then."

Professor McGonagall produced her wand once again and waved it at Mark's head and he felt a slight pinch and a few hairs float in the air, where the Hogwarts Professor plucked them and put them in a glass flask.


	14. Harry III

_**Disclaimer:**_ _I make no claim to the rights of any characters that are owned by J.K. Rowling or Warner Bros., and make no money from this venture. This work is purely for entertainment purposes._

* * *

—CHAPTER THIRTEEN—

 _Harry_

There were only two nights left of Harry's Fifth Year at Hogwarts and he found that he couldn't enjoy it. Last days of the year had always been somewhat depressing for Harry, who had always had to go back to live with the Dursleys, but this time, it was a different kind of feeling.

On the one hand, he continued to think about Neville. There was rarely a time when he wasn't thinking about him. He had not realised it before, but Neville had been a huge part of his life. Perhaps an even more stable part than Hermione and Ron, both of whom had, at one time or another, left him. Hermione when Harry first received the Firebolt and made a huge deal about it, leading to it being confiscated. That had, upon reflection, been Harry's fault. Ron had left when Harry was chosen as a Triwizard Champion, believing him to be lying about how he got in. That, Harry decided, was not his fault.

But Neville? No, Neville had always been there. His loyalty to Harry had been fervent and unwavering from the beginning. Well, except before the First Year incident, Harry thought to himself. Even then, he had only been trying to make sure they didn't get in trouble, which was honourable. Neville never believed that Harry was the Heir of Slytherin. He never believed that Harry had put his name in the Goblet of Fire. He was also a prominent member of Dumbledore's Army.

And Harry had ignored him. That was why Harry felt guilty now. Not because Neville died saving him, but because he had never been as good a friend to Neville as Neville had been to him. In all fairness to himself, the others in the dorm were never that close to Neville either. But Neville had never cared about them as much as he seemed to about Harry. He couldn't help but wonder if he should have been better friends with Neville. He spent a great deal of time imagining scenarios in his mind of what might have happened if he had been better friends with Neville, and the scenarios always seemed too real. It was as if Neville's face was etched into his brain.

The only time that he wasn't thinking about Neville, it seemed, was when he was thinking about Luna. Harry had absolutely no idea what was going on with him and Luna. After she had kissed him outside of the entrance to the Ravenclaw Dorms, Harry had been confused. Sometimes he thought it was just Luna being Luna, but sometimes he thought there was more to it. Then she came to the Quidditch Pitch to see him. Ron and Ginny left quickly when she turned up, making up some excuse about it getting dark, which wouldn't have stopped either of them in all actuality.

"How are you, Luna?" Harry had asked awkwardly as Ron and Ginny retreated off the pitch, looking over their shoulders every so often at Harry and Luna who, Harry though, must have looked extremely awkward. At least, on his side. He wasn't sure that Luna could ever look awkward in any situation.

"Unhappy," she had replied serenely as she surveyed the pitch. "But I suppose that is to be expected when a friend dies."

"Yeah, I guess so," Harry had said to her lamely, not knowing what to say. He wasn't used to comforting people. It was never his strong suit.

"The pitch really is very lovely," Luna had said after only a moment. "I am considering commentating games next year. Lee Jordan leaves this year, you know. They'll need a replacement."

"Oh," Harry had said, not expecting her to say any of that. "Yeah he does. You would make a, er, great commentator."

"I don't think so," Luna had replied, looking back at Harry, a small smile on her face. "I expect that I would be dreadful. But I don't think we can ever know anything for sure without trying."

"Yeah, you're right." _For neither can live while the other survives_.

"Let's go for a walk," Luna had said suddenly, seizing Harry's right hand in her left. Her hand was very soft.

"Uh … where to?" Harry had asked.

"Just around the pitch," Luna had replied, looking forward. "Things look better when you're moving. Just don't move too quickly or everything will be a blur. My mum used to say that."

"Your mum sounds like she was a very wise woman," Harry had responded not knowing what to say.

"I think so," Luna had said quietly. "I love Daddy a lot, but Mum was the one I always admired. She was so smart. And beautiful. I look more like Daddy than Mum."

"I think you're pretty," Harry had said without thinking. Luna looked up to him and smiled, her big eyes shining.

"That's kind of you to say, but you don't have to," she had replied. They were still walking, but slowly.

"You are," Harry had said, not sure why he was saying it. He stopped walking for a moment and then leaned down and kissed her. It was not a particularly long kiss, but it was longer than Luna's had been to him. When they broke apart, Luna squeezed his hand lightly.

After that, they had been interrupted by Hermione and Colin. Harry had been both relieved and annoyed that they were there.

Following that particular kiss, Harry had been wondering where, exactly, he stood with Luna. The only experience he had to compare it with was with Cho, and that never really went well at all. But it had been easier in some aspects. For one thing, Harry had liked Cho before anything happened. It had also been harder. Cho was certainly more high maintenance than Luna would ever be.

He was contemplating this at dinner when an owl that Harry did not recognise dropped a letter in front of him. It seemed as though everyone was looking at him, as owls were rarely seen at dinner time. He moved to open it but Hermione, who was seated to his left slapped his hand.

"I didn't recognise that owl," she said sharply. "We don't know who it's from."

"I'm sure it's nothing," Harry protested, but Hermione had already drawn her wand and cast a spell. Nothing happened.

"There," she said in a huff. "Now you can open it."

Harry opened the letter, feeling nearly every eye on him as he tried his best to ignore them.

 _Harry,_

 _I wish to speak with you when you have finished your dinner._

 _Myself? I am having a delicious peppermint humbug. Perhaps not a meal, though I do find them delicious._

 _Albus Dumbledore_

Harry folded the parchment and put it in his pocket.

"What was it?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"Dumbledore wants to see me," Harry replied, shrugging his shoulders. Truth be told, he wasn't very happy with Albus Dumbledore. Harry knew it was childish, but he couldn't help but feel betrayed that Dumbledore had not felt it right to tell Harry everything from the start. "I don't know why."

He had told Ron and Hermione about the Prophecy and everything else Dumbledore had told him the morning after the Department of Mysteries, but he had not told Ginny or Colin. Both Ron and Hermione nodded, recognising what Harry was hinting at, but Colin looked confused.

"Did you do something wrong?" Colin asked. Harry shook his head.

"Not that I know of," he replied. "I don't know what it's about, really. He doesn't say."

"Hopefully it's nothing bad," Colin said, eating some more fried rice. Harry ate some himself. He and Colin shared a love of fried rice, it seemed. Harry felt guilty about hiding everything from Ginny, Luna and Colin, but he knew that if they knew they could be in danger, and he couldn't let that happen. Sure, they would probably say that they don't mind being put in danger, but Harry minded. He minded a great deal.

"I'm sure it won't be," Hermione said somewhat cheerfully. "Professor Dumbledore probably just wants to check in on Harry. See how he's doing after ... well you know. After everything."

"Yeah, that's probably it," Colin said, seeming more at ease. Harry saw Ron roll his eyes. He pushed back his food.

"Ron, you mind if I talk to you before I go see Dumbledore?" Harry asked, trying to not sound pointed. It seemed to work as Ron didn't react negatively.

"Yeah, sure," he said, taking one last huge bite out of a chicken wing and placing it back on his plate. They exited the Great Hall and found only a few First Year kids around. "What's up?"

"What's going on with you and Colin?" Harry asked straight out. No point dancing around the issue. Dumbledore and his piercing blue eyes were waiting on him after all. Ron feigned surprise.

"What do you mean?" he asked, trying to sound surprised.

"I'm meant to believe that?" Harry asked. "Whenever he's around you seem to glare and roll your eyes a lot. So what's your problem?" Ron seemed to give in.

"You don't think it's a bit odd that you two are now like buddies?" Ron asked. "You hated him in Second Year. And you never much cared for him after that either."

"That was because I only saw him as this creepy stalker kid," Harry said, trying to explain. "But he isn't."

"Oh yeah, did _he_ tell you that?" Ron asked, sarcasm dripping on every word.

"No, actually," Harry said angrily. "It was Dumbledore. I'm sure I've told you that before."

"Oh, fine," Ron said, equally as angrily. "But don't you think that obsession of his was creepy?"

"Not now that I get why -" Harry was going to continue, but Ron cut him off.

"Harry, this isn't right," Ron cut in, annoyed. "You go from hating him to best friends in a day? No. Not possible. It's a potion. It has to be."

"A potion?" Harry asked, perplexed.

"Yeah," Ron lowered his voice conspiratorially. "I've been thinking, and the only logical reason that he's your friend is that he used a love potion."

"A love potion?" Harry asked, angrily. "You think he's using a love potion?"

"Of course!" Ron exclaimed. "It's the only explanation."

"Except for one thing," Harry said. Ron looked confused. "I'm not in love with Colin you git!"

"Are you sure?" Ron asked. Harry felt the urge to punch Ron in his freckled nose.

"Yes, I'm sure!" Harry yelled.

"Yeah, well he's in love with you," Ron said pointedly. "Either way, that's true."

"Actually, I don't really think you can say that it's true unless you have proof that he's gay," Harry said. "Not telling me something, eh Ron?" Ron flushed a deep red.

"Shut up!" he said angrily. "I just know it when I see it!" _Yeah, sure you do_ , Harry thought, thinking of Hermione.

"And even if it is true, which we cannot know, what's the problem? He happens to like guys instead of girls. Who cares?" Harry was angry. He remembered Uncle Vernon ranting on "those homosexual freaks" one time before Hogwarts came around. His uncle was descriptive in his rant, so Harry pretty much understood, though he could never see the problem. That probably mostly came from Harry's not wanting to be anything like Vernon Dursley. "He's still someone who just wants some friends." Ron seemed shocked.

"That really doesn't bother you?" he asked incredulously. "He could be in love with you right now and you wouldn't care?"

"No, not really," Harry replied. "If anything I would take it as a compliment. I may not feel the same way, but anyone caring that much about me is a good thing." Harry could hear Vernon Dursley's voice in his head. _You little freak!_

"He's a freak," Ron muttered. Harry reacted on some strange primal instinct and did what he had wanted to do earlier. He punched Ron Weasley right in his freckled nose. It was not a particularly strong punch, as Harry was so scrawny, but he felt a crunch nonetheless. Ron didn't fall over, but his hands did go to his face. Harry saw blood trickling through his fingers.

"You don't ever use that word," Harry said coldly, and he saw Ron's eyes meet his own. There were a lot of emotions in there for a boy with the emotional range of a teaspoon. Harry turned and walked away, heading for the Headmaster's Office. He heard Ron call out to him once, but he didn't respond. When he knew he was out of sight of Ron, Harry shook his hand and massaged it. It may not have been a strong punch, but Harry wasn't used to it. Harry could feel a sense of satisfaction mingled with guilt. He felt like he had to do that, but he wished it didn't have to be Ron.

Soon enough, Harry reached the entrance to Dumbledore's office and said the password, allowing him to ascend the staircase to the door with a griffin as a knocker. When he entered the room, he heard the familiar whirring noises and saw that there were already two people in the room. Professor McGonagall was there as well.

"I'm sorry," Harry said immediately. "I can come back."

"No, Mr Potter," Professor McGonagall said quickly. "I'm here to talk to you as well. Professor Dumbledore and I require something from you." Harry moved to sit down.

"And what's that?" Harry asked, directing his question to Dumbledore.

"A simple strand of your hair," Dumbledore replied serenely. "You do have a lot to spare that I doubt you would miss it." Harry suddenly thought of Polyjuice Potion.

"What for?" Harry asked suspiciously. Dumbledore pulled out a flask of black liquid. It almost looked like tar. Harry never remembered Polyjuice Potion looking that dark. It had been more of a brown colour, if he remembered correctly.

"Professor Dumbledore has a theory of sorts," McGonagall said.

"What sort of theory?" Harry asked, sounding less sceptical.

"We have both decided that it is for the best if we don't tell you unless we are one hundred percent certain that we are correct," McGonagall said. She did not sound stern, but she did not sound pleasant either. She sounded like she did when teaching. Harry looked at Dumbledore.

"And I'm meant to trust that you'll tell me if you're right?" Harry asked accusingly.

"Mr Potter!" McGonagall exclaimed. "That is the Headmaster you are addressing!"

"It's quite alright," Dumbledore replied with a smile. "Harry has every right to be angry with me. He and I both know why. As to whether you have to trust me, Harry. No, I would not make you do that at this time. I will ask you to trust Professor McGonagall."

Harry thought for a moment and nodded. He may have lost some trust in the Headmaster since Neville died, but his trust in Professor McGonagall had been strengthened. He knew she wouldn't lie to him. Or, at least, he hoped that she wouldn't.

"Fine," he said. A moment later a few strands of hair floated from his head and hovered in front of the Headmaster's face, easily being able to be seen in front of the old man's almost pure white beard. Dumbledore then took out a small flask and tipped the contents into it. Harry thought he saw some red, but he could not be certain. After that, Dumbledore levitated Harry's hair and dropped it into the tar liquid.

The potion began to bubble and let off some black steam, but soon started to change colours. It got gradually lighter and lighter until it became what could only be considered a neutral red colour. Harry heard McGonagall suck in a breath and saw Dumbledore smile and nod.

"What does that mean?" Harry asked, wanting his answers now. If he didn't get them now, he might never get them if Dumbledore had his way. Dumbledore and McGonagall shared a glance and Dumbledore nodded his assent.

"As I'm sure you know already," McGonagall began, so Harry turned to face her as much as he could, "I am the person in charge of informing the families of Muggle-borns that their child has magical abilities and has a place here at Hogwarts. Today marked the eleventh birthday of a young Muggle-born boy, so I went to his place of residence and met with this boy and his parents."

Harry was confused. Why was she telling him this? What did this have to do with him? But he assumed that she was going somewhere with it, so he let her continue.

"As it turned out, he actually lives very near Privet Drive," McGonagall said, piquing Harry's interest enough to make him sit up straighter. "When I spoke to this family, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Well, except for the boy and his father's hair. Red hair. While it might seem that we have a lot of redheads, what with the seemingly endless wave of Weasley's everywhere, it is actually no different to the Muggle world. Red hair is actually not all that common.

"Anyway, I did everything the way I always do it," she continued. "I told them. They were disbelieving. I showed them. Still disbelieving. I convinced them magic was real. They didn't want to send him. It's nothing new to me." Harry could sense an almost joking tone there, and he was slightly taken aback. He didn't have many memories of McGonagall making any kind of joke. Or any at all, for that matter.

"It was only when I returned to the school and discussed it with Professor Dumbledore, as I always do, that we noticed something odd," she said, pausing.

"Odd? Like what?" Harry asked, still unsure of the link to him. Dumbledore seemed to be prepared to take up the story from there.

"While I heard the story I pieced a few things together," Dumbledore said, his eyes gleaming slightly. "Red hair, green eyes and the last name 'Evans'."

"Wait, what?" Harry said suddenly. His mother had had red hair, he was always being told that he had the same eyes as her and her maiden name was 'Evans'.

"You were right," McGonagall said suddenly. "The eyes are exactly the same."

"What are you saying?" Harry asked.

"When Professor Dumbledore made the connection," McGonagall continued, "he asked me to go back and get a lock of Mark Evans' hair."

"Mark?" Harry asked suddenly. "I know him. Dudley used to bully him." There was a silence for a moment before McGonagall started again.

"It was easy enough to get the hair," she said plainly. "I just told them that it was a part of the enrolment process that I had forgotten and they agreed to it."

"Is it a part?" Harry asked, not remembering Hagrid taking any of his hair. That might have gone badly if Hagrid had used his hands or tried with his "umbrella". McGonagall shifted in her seat.

"It used to be," she admitted. "It was stopped 152 years ago, but that was never strictly official, so what I did was, in all technical senses, legal." Harry smirked despite himself.

"I see," he said, suppressing a laugh, at least.

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "And that brings us here. This potion," he motioned towards the now red liquid, "was a test to see if you and young Mark Evans were related in any way."

"And red means?" Harry asked, looking from the red potion to Dumbledore, who was smiling with his piercing blue eyes twinkling.

"Mark Evans is your first cousin through your mother's line."

—END OF PART I—


End file.
